Hiding Behind A Mask
by Erikslittleangel13
Summary: After the tragic death of Christine Daee, her young daughter ,a music protege, is sent to the opera house where she befriends a certain opera ghost. Will she be able to truly love him, or will she run just like her mother did?
1. Prelude

A/N: These first few chapters were originally written in 2004 and so I decided to rewrite them. Here is the rewrite of the Prelude!

Prelude rewrite

Her brown curls bounced and swayed as her energetic legs pumped her towards the luxurious bed. Her smile was filled with innocence and it registered in her flawless child like aquatic eyes.

"Hurry Momma!" The five year old squealed with delight.

"Patience my little Mollia," her voice held a hidden musical tone as it floated through Mollia's toy filled room, "You must remember that I am carrying your little brother Caleb as well." Any person passing by could realize in an instant that her womb was rich as life. Mollia slid under her soft blankets as her very pregnant mother waddled in and sat down besides the bed. Mollia yawned and even in that one yawn one could hear the potential for great music.

"Momma, will you sing me a song?" Mollia asked and being so used to hearing no, she used her last resort; the puppy eyes. Her beautiful blue eyes swelled and formed large alligator tears. Her lip puffed out a little and the gleam of betrayal was apparent in her gaze. Her talent of creating the perfect puppy eyes never failed her.

"All right, but I still do not like the idea. I am only singing one song so chose wisely my little lady bug." Her mother's voice was spilling with uncertainty as she prepared to sing the one song that her daughter adored.

"'Think of me!" Momma please?" The child snuggled deeper into her blankets as her mother fixed her posture. Her mother's voice was flawless and held perfect pitch, and yet there was one major problem; her voice was like a stone, lacking any emotion.

"Think of me, Think of me fondly when we've said goodbye. Remember me, once in a while, please promise me you'll try. When you find that once again you long to take your heart back and be free. If you ever find a moment spare a thought for me…." (From "Think of me" in "The Phantom of the Opera")

The child's deep breath signaled the end of her mother's song as she prepared to leave. The creak of the bedroom door caused her to whip around in fear that her husband had heard her singing, which he despised and loathed. Indeed it was he who stood in the doorway, the soft glow of a candle in his hand. He spoke softly not wishing to wake the little angel who slept peacefully naught but a few feet away.

"It is quite all right Christine. You still have the most beautiful voice that I have ever heard. It hasn't changed since the days back at the Opera House." He walked over to Mollia and bent down, kissing her smooth forehead with fatherly care. Smiling down at his little angel one last time he led Christine out of the room and gently shut the door. Christine continued their conversation with a sad gaze in her chocolate eyes.

"Please Raoul; do not speak of those days again. They are mere moments of the past and I do not wish to remember them." Raoul wrapped his arm around his wife's shoulders, careful not to squeeze too hard.

"And yet you still do," Raoul interjected with a slight hint of agitation, "I am beginning to believe that you miss that monster. I mean really Christine, how long are you going to beg for his forgiveness." Christine's petite lips fell open as she stared nervously at Raoul. Surprised that he knew of her secret, and angered at how he had invaded what little privacy she actually had. "Yes! I heard you asking for forgiveness last night, and the night before that, and so on. You need to forget about those days Christine! You have a life with me as your husband and two, rather soon to be two, beautiful children. What more could your heart desire?" Raoul sighed as Christine's eyes filled with fresh tears, and yet he felt little guilt for speaking the truth. "Did you tell our little Mollia about the Angel of Music or Little Lotte?" Raoul's voice was filled with accusation and worry as he paced their bedroom back and forth. Christine hesitated. _Should I tell him the truth and lie and save him the concern?_

"I did tell her Raoul but when she asked for more details I told her only that I thought the voice was from an angel but it was really all a part of my dreams; a figment of my childish imagination," Christine saw the disgust on his face and her eyes swelled up with the same alligator tears as Mollia's. The bathroom door slammed closed behind her as she slipped down to the floor. She stayed there for an hour, until she heard Raoul slip into bed. She emerged mere moments after and fell asleep in each others arms, apologies whispered upon their lips.

~oOo~

Mollia was the first to wake the next morning. The bright sun peaked through her curtains and created small sparkles that looked like tiny sunbursts in her hair. Eventually the bright red behind her eyelids became too much to deter and she slipped from her comfortable bed onto the chilled hard wood. After dressing properly with the help with Annabelle the house maid she slipped into her music room, making sure to shut the heavy door behind her. This was the room of her child like fantasies. The walls were a mix between maroon, purple, and pastel pink. The architect had called it "tea room." The architecture was elaborate and fantastic. Mollia had always dreamed of performing on the stage and so the architect had built the room based on the famous opera house. The ceiling was cathedral with many arcs and lovely painting at the very top. There was a miniature stage with curtains and everything. The only thing that was not authentic in the room was the gas lamps that ran along the edge of the stage. Mollia's father feared that a fire would burn down the entire house with the family in it. Mollia slipped up the small stairs to the stage and sat down at her piano bench. She glazed over the keys with her tiny fingers and sighed. She had never learned how to play the piano properly. She could figure out what keys were what notes but her fingering was wrong.

"I wish I could play like the famous musicians can." Mollia sighed and gently lowered the cover over the keys. She was supposed to have another lesson that morning and so she retrieved her violin. She began to play her feelings and was surprised to hear a sad and longing melody swaying from the strings. She played masterfully shifting her hand up and down the finger bow, tying note after note together and switching keys when proper. She let the music around her consume her entire being and let her emotions run rampart. She became so enveloped in the singing sound her aged violin emitted that she did not hear the groan of the heavy wooden door behind her. She felt a hand on her shoulders and flew forward emitting a tiny shriek.

"Mollia dear, calm down, it is only me," Her mother's voice was calm and gentle and Mollia set her violin in its case and embraced her mom. She kissed her mother's rich womb and pulled back.

"Do I have my lesson today momma?" Mollia looked up at her mother wishing that she would confirm the lesson date. Her mother patted her only the head gently.

"I believe it is not until Wednesday, love. I am sorry if you are disappointed." Mollia sighed and hugged her mother one more time, her arms barely making it around her encased brother. She took her mother's soft hand and led her to the piano bench where they both sat. Christine opened the top gently staring down at the shining keys, a look of reminiscing crossed over her features. Mollia began to sing softly, stopping abruptly when her mother slammed the cover to the keys on the piano.

"Why do you not wish to sing in public Momma, and why is daddy so upset when you sing?" Mollia looked into her mother's clear and depressed eyes.

"Something happened, something horrible happened before you were born and whenever I sing your father remembers that time and it upsets him dearly." Christine looked at her daughter gently. Her features hardened quickly at Mollia's words.

"was it when you were at the opera house momma?" Mollia inquired eagerly as Christine sat on the bench baffled, her petite mouth open in surprise. Her bright daughter answered before she could even ask.

"My friends from the park told me of those days. Their mothers said that you were kidnapped and that you used to be the famous leading soprano Christine Daee. Is it true mommy? Did you really sing at the opera house? Did you really have an angel of music?" Mollia slid closer to her mother, the anticipation causing her tiny body to quiver.

"Yes, I am afraid that it is true Mollia," her mother sighed, "I fell in love with what I thought was the voice of the angel of music but it just ended up belonging to a lunatic man. He was a musical genius and your papa fears that he is still there which is why we have never returned." Mollia hugged her mother again and squeezed her tight.

"I love you momma." Christine sighed and kissed the top of her daughter's head. It was the little childish sentimental things that kept her going. The unconditional love, random full hearted "I love you's", the sheer look of gratitude and admiration from her daughter that thawed her freezing soul.

~oOo~

The office was organized chaos, papers scattered in millions of piles across desks and chairs and even stacks of books. Papers slipped between pages of books whose dust reminded of the lack of concern or need for said paper. The only clean spots were two chairs and the oak bookcase directly behind the desk.

"I thought that I would share this wonderful news with you my love," Raoul stood and crossed around the desk to take his lovely wife's hands in his gentle ones.

"You know how they have finished the restorations of the opera house? Well.. " Christine refused to let him finish as she jumped from her chair bumping him aside in a hurry as she went.

"You cannot even imagine going back there Raoul. I fear that he still roams those halls, dead or alive Raoul. If he finds us there, oh God knows what would happen." Her hands wrung together as she stared out into the vast expansion of their lawns. The arms around her waist comforted slightly, the warm breath upon her neck aided even more.

"He is dead Christine. I am now the new co-manager of the opera house. We cannot hide from our past forever. I will not let those events conquer our lives. Not when we are creating a family of our own. We have to go there for a short period of time and I would love to show Mollia the very place where her parents fell in love." Christine brought a shaky hand to her forehead and suddenly cried out, her hands covering her swollen womb. Raoul caught her falling form and screamed for help.

"Raoul….. The baby." Raoul resisted the onslaught of tears as his very pregnant wife passed out and liquid pooled between her legs, covering her dress.

~oOo~

The hospital was filthy; the once pristine white walls were yellowed by the stench ridden breath of infected patients. Raoul sat in a stiff wooden chair that creaked with age as he waited for his doctor to bring news. He felt disgusted just being in the room. The air smelt of starch cleaning fluids, the kind that burned the flesh of the poor soul deemed with the task. The nurse sitting behind the paint peeling desk was old and ill ridden, her face yellowed like the walls with deep marks under each pale eye. She coughed loudly; her germs adding to the cesspool already wandering the room, waiting to infect any worried family member. Finally the doctor emerged from the darkness of the emergency hallway, wiping a red substance on a cloth and sighing as he approached the man who would surely break at the terrible news.

"Sir?" The doctor put a gentle hand on the man's soldier and took a deep breath, "I am afraid that I must be the bearer of misery and despair." Raoul tried to keep himself from falling back into the chair but it was pointless.

"Your wife went into unexpected early labor; too early for the child to live. We tried to save you wife, but we could not stop the bleeding and..." Raoul's face hardened and he burst from his chair, pushing the shocked doctor away before darting down the dark hallway from which Christine would never return.

The room smelt of blood and antiseptic. Raoul looked upon his wife with horror. Never in his life had she seen such a site. Her face was grey, her eyes sunken, and he hair brittle. Her form was drenched in blood. In her arms lay a tiny still form its small fingers wrapped around its mother's hand as a last parting sentiment. He looked upon the frail image of his wife holding the frozen form of their son and cried. His knees folded and he landed in a puddle. The blood soaked into his clothes, staining the skin of his hands. He looked down upon his red flesh and screamed in anguish and torture. Tears rolled from his grief stricken eyes as the nurse attempted to stand him up.

"Sir, you should not be in here. This is no was for a husband to remember his wife." He ripped his arm from the comforting nurse and turned to the doctor eyes cold and haunted.

"Bring her home once you have cleaned her up, the baby as well. I have a daughter at home who will be crushed when she hears of this." He left them, the image of his blood drenched wife, his soul mate holding the form of their dead child; Caleb.

r

~oOo~

The music that floated about the house was glorious and sad, genius and simple. He stood in front of the door looking down at his form, seeing nothing but the blood upon his skin although it had washed away with water easily, and his clothes burned quickly. He opened the door and his daughter turned violin in playing position.

She saw his face, and did not recognize her father. His hair was in disarray and his skin was as white as fine porcelain. He looked frail and sick; a man whose heart was wrenched from his chest. She lowered her violin and froze.

"Papa, what is wrong? Where are momma and Caleb?" The first sob was all it took for little Mollia to understand everything. Her small body shook as the violin clattered to the floor a single sliver of wood breaking from its beautiful form. She allowed her tears to come like the rain as she ran from the room, her father giving no attempt to stop her. She thrust opened the front doors and sprinted rubbing her stinging eyes hastily. She could here the maid's chasing after her and the solemn voice of her father calling them back to the house.

The weeping willow loomed over her tiny form. It was her sanctuary, her secret hiding spot. She climbed each hanging branch with ease until she found her favorite spot. The branches wove together cradling her form like a new born baby, like her mother would before bed on cold and chilling nights. She curled into herself allowing the shock to set in and the realization to hit hard.

"Momma….Why..." She stayed there until the gentle voice of her father whispered through the leaves.

"Mollia, please come down from there sweetie. We are both hurting very much and I do not wish for you to suffer alone. You will certainly catch your death up there and I cannot bear to lose you." Mollia waited a few moments before sliding gently down each branch; the tree seemed to aid her in the descent into her father's arms. He carried her back to the house and they sat crying in each other's arms, searching for comfort in one another's hearts. Eventually Mollia left her father's arms finding the urge to be alone during her great time of grieving to be too strong to resist. She found herself locked in her own music room, the G clef shaped key, the only key to the room, hung gently around her petite neck. She let her body fall to the small sofa and allowed her feelings to emit through voice. She sang the song that her mother would sing to her father's grave every year, but the word "father" was switched with "mother."

"Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing.

Her mother promised her that she would send her the angel of music,

Her mother promised her…. Her mother promised her…

You were once my one companion, you were all that mattered.

You were once a friend and mother, then my world was shattered,

Wishing you were somehow here again, wishing you were somehow near,

Sometimes it seemed if I just dreamed, somehow you would be here

Wishing I could here your voice again, knowing that I never will,

No more memories, no more silent tears.

No more gazing across wasted years,

Help me say good bye, help me say goodbye."

She sobbed into the cushion until sleep overcame her mind, pushing her into an endless pit of darkness. Raoul kept his ear to the door his own tears dripping onto the hard wood floor as he listened to the angelic voice of his daughter. Her voice was that of her mothers, she was her spitting image. The funeral was to be in a few days and then they would leave. They would leave this house of memories and began a new stage of their lives; at the Opera House.

~oOo~ (A week after the funeral)

The house was silent, no more childish laughter and play, only the resonant sound of saddening violin. She spent every single day in the music room only coming out for meals and the scheduled bathing time. She had refused any lessons and only sang the songs her mother had. She smoothed out her black dress hating the fact that she had such a beautiful piano and was still unable to play it. She slammed her fists down on the ivory keys just as her father entered the room.

"Sweetie, we must make haste. Make sure that you have packed your violin and your music. Mollia brushed her fingers through her tangled curls once more as she leaned down to pick up her small violin case. She sat in the carriage awestruck at the site of the city. The buildings that loomed over her ant like form, casting endless shadows upon the dark clad figures walking with briefcases and top hats, and Mollia shivered with fear at the sudden crowd that walked around the carriage. Her mind alerted her of the Opera House up ahead. The artistic style of the building gave it away. The beautiful statues represented various fames that Mollia could not name and she gaped at the amount of people who entered as well as exited the building. The outside of the building was laced with a variety of golden shades and vibrant colors. The sheer detail on each inch looked as if the artisan had spent a day on each and every chiseled piece. The building brought warmth to her tiny heart that was untimely cold and arctic, her mother's death taking away her childish emotions.

Papa, it is amazing! This is the opera house is it not? Can we go inside now please Papa?" Her father calmed the bouncing child and called the driver to a halt.

"We may as well walk from here, we are not going to get much farther and we are wasting a lot of time." Mollia smiled gleefully when she was pulled out of the carriage and into the crowd. The rest of the tour was a blur of introductions and colors. Her tiny mind could not memorize the sheer number of details that the interior forced into her sight. The outstanding golden statues, mixed marble floors, grand staircase, and luscious rugs. The people mattered not to the child as she glanced into the giant house. The only thing that registered in her mind was the size of the stage. The amazing lighting and perfect backdrops were just a small detail compared to the amazing sounds that floated through the house hinting at the potential acoustics. Mollia did not wish to leave the house but her father pulled her along promising her that she would not want to miss the next sight and she did not. Down an old creaky hallway the last door up a couple of stairs was the only dust covered and deserted looking one. There was a name professionally carved into the crown of the door and Mollia's eyes moistened at the name; "Christine Daee." Mollia reached for the handle quickly and forced the door open.

"This was your mother's dressing room when she sang here and we believed that you would enjoy staying in the same room that she stayed in while you are spending time here." Her father kissed her head before gently closing the door, leaving her to her solitude. She glanced around the room, taking in all of the aspects of her mother's teenage mind. The flowers and the girlish patterns sewn into the quilt upon the angelic looking bed and the rose filled air that tickled her delicate nose reminded her of her mother's gentle spirit. The room seemed complete, each piece of furniture cleaned spotless, not an ounce of dust on any surface, and while admiring the perfection Mollia found the one blemish that was very uncharacteristic for her mother to want. In anger Mollia tore the dusty cloth that covered the tall mirror on the wall and frowned at her ghastly dress and small pale face. She turned at the sound of the door creaking open behind her. Her father stood hat in his hands and a small smile gracing his ghostly face.

"I want to show you something sweetie. Follow me." His voice was sincere and so I followed leaving the rose scented room for the musky hallway which chilled by tiny bones. The staircase was the eerie part; its walls were stone grown over with moss and other grimy substances. The cobwebs hung down lightly brushing the top her of father's hat. At the bottom she froze, remembering the stain glass window in her music room, the tiny one way up at the top of the wall. It was a replica of the one that she was staring at now, but this one was so much more realistic. The angels looked as if they could flap their wings and fly from the glass, and Mollia smiled. She noticed the candle holders with images under them and she immediately moved forward. Under one, she noticed, was a picture that seemed very familiar and calming. She touched it lightly and looked back at her father.

"Papa, is this grand papa?" Her father only nodded deciding not to taint the holy air with his voice. Silently he placed a small image of his wife in the picture holder next to her father's and lit the candle above it with a match that he borrowed from a stage hand. He left, leaving his tiny daughter to gaze at the picture of her recently deceased mother, tears forming in his own broken eyes.

Mollia looked upon her mother's frozen face with longing and she tried to resist the sudden urge to voice her feelings, but music always prevailed and her control caved. Softly she began to sing her innocent and grief swallowed voice cracking from lack of use.

"Think of me, Think of me fondly when we've said goodbye. Remember me, once in a while; please promise me you'll try. When you find that once again you long to take your heart back and be free. If you ever find a moment spare a thought for me…." Mollia quieted staring down at her folded hands. The voice that sounded from all around her; in her ear, in front of her, over her shoulder, the far right corner of the room, and from up the hallway, startled her and she spun around looking for the speaker.

"Why do you stop singing child? You were simply superb?" His voice was mesmerizing and grand. Each tone floating melodiously through the air, vibrating sweetly in her small ear drums.

He knew he should not have spoken to the girl, but when she opened her mouth to sing he was shocked. Her small innocently toned voice was laced with mourning and grief. She was the spitting image of her mother and father, and had, dare say, a better voice than her mother's, even at such a young age. She looked scared when she could not identify the source of his voice and he sighed lightly; she was just like her mother. Finally she spoke up.

"I do not know the rest of the lyrics monsieur. I would fall asleep before my mother was able to finish singing. Now," tears sprung to the child's eyes, "now I will never know the words..." She was sobbing into the hands that were previously resting in her lap. She felt arms encase her and even though she did not know the man, she felt safe.

"Sssshhhh, it is okay my child. You are the daughter of Christine Daee are you not?" He felt the small girl nod against her dress and sighed softly, knowing that he would sing once again after all. Softly he began singing the words that the child did not know and she snuggled into him crying softly as the memories of her mother streamed through the recesses of her tiny mind. She was silent when he ended her form now completely in his lap. He felt connected to her, as if their souls had boded infinitely. He knew that she had the potential to be the greatest singer in all of Paris, all of France, even the greatest in the world! But did he have the courage to help her? To teach her what she needed to be taught? After a long period of silence he willed himself to speak.

"What is your name child?" She looked up into his face her eyes not glancing at his mask once; instead they stayed locked on his own.

"I am Mollia monsieur. What is your name?" Her curiosity only fuelled his memories and he gritted his teeth forcing his answer out.

"Well, my child. I am the angel of music…." He listened to the footsteps descending the stairs and stopped mid sentence, "I must make my departure Mollia. I promise that we shall meet again." He set her small frame on the cold stone and left through the gated glass. Mollia sat up and watched the shaking form of her father enter.

"Mollia, make haste we must leave this place at once." She was thoroughly confused, knowing that they were meant to stay for a week, but she obeyed standing quickly. She asked a soft "why" hoping that he would answer.

"I fear that it is no longer safe for you here Mollia. I will explain when you are a little older. They exited the small chapel, their ears ignorant to the laugh that echoed through the chapel below their forms.

"So he found my note. Old fool is still a coward, but Mollia, her will is strong. She will desire a teacher in a few years time, one who can actually help her voice excel." He turned, his heavy velvet cape swished behind him.


	2. Chapter one

1The other side of the angel

It has been eight years since Mollia's first meeting with the angel of music. So is now

thirteen years old, and her musical talent is the kind of talent, that you would expect from a

person who's been playing the violin and piano for twenty years not, eight. Mollia's musical

talent has also excelled beyond belief.

"Her voice is perfect. I cannot help her excel any longer. I am sorry, she can even teach

herself new songs. She is beyond needing a teacher." The tutor explained to Raoul. Raoul payed

the tutor for his work and entered the music room.

His only daughter was at the piano playing a sad yet beautiful song which would bring

tears to any listeners ears except for her father. Mollia stopped playing and looked at her father.

"Father, I know I can excel further. None of these tutors are right for me."

"Well we will find someone we have to. I have guest coming tonight and they want to see

all of your musical talent so prepare for each instrument and warm up. They will be here

shortly."Mollia gasped she had never played in front of guest. They mst be of great importance to

my dad to have me play music.

Mollia went through her piano music and found a piece that she had composed a while

back and for the violin she also played her own work. She went through her vocal music but

couldn't find anything. Then a particular song caught her eye. She had never heard of it and there

was no composer. It was called "You Raise Me Up". Mollia played it on the piano and began to

sing along. It was perfect. By the end of the song Mollia was crying. The song reminded her

about her dear mother and all of the good memories flooded back. She went to her own bedroom

to get ready for the guest. By the time she had finished the door bell rang.

"Mollia come to the music room!" Raoul yelled. Mollia was there in a flash.

"Mollia, I want you to meet the new managers of the opera populaire. This is Joseph." He

said pointing to a good looking man with brown hairs and piercing brown and orange eyes. "And

this is Mikel." Raoul said pointing to the other man. He was even cuter. He had the dreamy

blonde hair and baby blue eyes and a smile that could melt a stone cold heart. Then she thought

of her angel. All of these years she had dreams that she would see the angel of music again and

soon. She had never really gotten to see his face.

"Are you ready to play Mollia?" Raoul asked snapping you back to reality.

"Huh yeah sorry about that." Mollia's face turned a deep red and she walked to the piano

with her music. She began playing and for about ten minutes the only sound was the piano. It was

as if Mollia's soul was attached to the music as her fingers seemed to float over the ivory keys.

When Mollia finished the song with a beautiful chord, she looked over at the Opera managers

and they were stunned.

"How old are you child?" They asked in unison (at the same time)

"I am thirteen sir." Both managers were speechless. Raoul motioned you to go on while

smiling. Mollia walked over to the couch and grabbed her violin. She prepared and got

positioned and began to play. It was a sad and longing song. It was as if time froze and te music

never stopped. When it did end Mollia noticed that everyone was in tears even her father. He

smile.

"Your mother would be so proud of you right now sweety. Sing for us for your mother."

You grabbed your music and sat at the piano.

"Would you like it acapella or with accompaniment, good sirs?" All said acapella. Mollia

stepped away from the piano and set her music on a stand. She began to sing and it was like and

angel took control for she could not stop singing,

_When I am Down, and oh my soul, so weary_

_When troubles come and my heart burdened be_

_Then, I am still and wait here in the silence_

_Until you come and sit a while with me._

_You raise me up so I can stand on mountains,_

_You raise me up to walk on stormy seas_

_I am strong when I am on your shoulders_

_You raise me up to more than I can be._

_You raise me so I can stand on mountains_

_You raise me up to walk on stormy seas_

_I am strong, when I am on your shoulders _

_You raise me up to more than I can be _

_You raise me up so I can stand on mountains_

_you raise me up to walk on stormy seas_

_I am strong when I am on your shoulders_

_You raise me up to more than I can be._

_(This time like really loud) _

_You raise me up so I can stand on mountains_

_You raise me up to walk on stormy seas_

_I am strong when I am on your shoulders (ritard and decrescendo)_

_You raise me up to more than I can be,_

_You raise me up to more than I can be..._

Everyone clapped and you bowed.

"She is perfect Raoul a little too young but she will do. You shall bring happiness and joy

to all of Paris, Mollia." They stood and hugged you. Your father embraced you.

"Father what are they talking about." your father kissed your forehead.

"Their lead at the opera house has gotten sick and passed. They need a new one as well as

a musician." You squealed and squeezed your dad.

"When are we leaving dad." Your father looked at the ground.

"I cannot stay with you but I will be to your every show and you can always write to me.

You are growing into a beautiful young lady. You saddened at hearing this but were still to

excited to cry.

"Go pack your things for we will be off in an hour." Joseph stated.

"I have one question. Can I have my mothers old dressing room please?"

"Sure our new lead gets what ever she wants." You smiled and then bowed. Once you

reached your room you danced in circles and jumped on your bed. You packed your clothes and

your mother's dresses and then you grabbed anything you might need. It was a fun ride to the

opera house. The opera managers explained that Mollia will start as the musician and once they

get rid of their awful replacement A girl named Rosemary, that Mollia was going to take over.

You arrived at the opera house and when you entered your breath was yet again taken away.

There was gold and statues and amazing architecture. The grand stairs were made of marble and

there was a giant red carpet on top of them. You went down several different halls and finally

you reached your Mother's dressing room, now Mollia's dressing room. There was a knock on

the door,

"Yes come in." A older woman with a kind yet stern face entered and shut the door

behind her.

"Good evening my dear. My, have you grown . I wanted to let you know that practice s at

six tomorrow morning."

" Thank you madame Giry. Can I talk to you about something." Madame Giry was like a

grandmother to Mollia. Since she was a baby madame Giry was always there to help, and she

brought meg with her.

"Sure, what do you want tp talk about?" Madame Giry sat on your couch and you sat next

to her.

"Can you tell me about my mom and how she met the angel of music." Madame Giry

froze. I am sorry my dear but I I can't. I must go, and tend to something." Madame Girl left

leaving Mollia shocked.

"What happened that was so bad that no one wants to talk about it or even think about

it?" Mollia asked herself.

"It's because no one can handle anything or anyone who's different." A angelic voice

answered coming from no where and yet everywhere. Mollia looked around a little shocked.

"I know what you mean_." _ Mollia said as she sat down on her new bed.

"You know nothing about being different You are the same as anyone else." Snapped the

voice. This made Mollia break out in goose bumps.

"Well don't be so quick to judge. I am thirteen years old and I can play the piano and

violin better than people who have twenty years of experience. Some people think I'm a witch."

Mollia looked at the ground and she heard a loud sigh.

"If only my mother were here to help me through this stage." Mollia sobbed and laid down in her

bed. She

waited until she though that the voice had went away, but she didn't know that he was right behind her

mirror. Softly she began to sing _ I tear my heart open, I sow myself shut,and my weakness is that I care to much. And my scars remind me that the past is real. I tear my heart open just to feel. I'm drunk and I'm feeling down, and I just wanna be alone I pissed cause came around, why don't you just go home Cause you channeled all your pain, and I can't help you fix yourself Your making me insane all I can say is I tear my heart open, I sow myself shut, And my weakness is that I care too much An our scars remind us that the past real _

_I tear my heart open just to feel _

Mollia tried to keep singing but she kept sobbing. She jumped when she felt a warm hand rub her back.

" Mollia please forgive me. I did not mean to scare you I just im confused and agitated."

It was the angelic voice. Mollia sat up and hugged the man. He didn't react but finally he held her

against him. She looked up at him and asked,

"How do you know my name?"

"Child you don't remember our first meeting in the chapel." He said and laughed to

himself. Mollia mentally slapped herself how could she forget.

"I am sorry about your mother. I see how much you loved her. She was a wonderful

person you know." Mollia looked up and the man and pushed herself away from him.

"You're the one who kid napped her!" Mollia exclaimed and was about to scream for

help but a gloved hand was placed over her mouth.

"Shhh. Do not scream little angel you are not on harms way. I would never hurt you."For

some reason Mollia believed him and relaxed a little bit. Her eyelids became very heavy. She

tried to keep them open but she couldn't.

"Sleep little angel. You need your rest for tomorrow. You have your first practice."

Mollia slowly fell asleep.

The phantom slipped her under the covers and slipped behind the mirror.

"Soon my angel you must learn to trust and love me. You will learn to trust and love me.

You are not completely like your mother. You do have some good traits tat you got from your

father. Sleep today for tomorrow you shall be surprised." He smiled and walked down the dark

hallway and to his newly built layer.

Mollia awoke to a knock on the door. She got out of bedand opened the door. A girl

about her age with silver hair and grey eyes was standing there.

"Madame Girl sent me to wake you. Practice starts shortly and she says you must come to

breakfast." The girl looked nervous for some reason.

"Um well you can come in and wait I will only be a few minutes. By the way I'm

Mollia." Mollia walked to the wardrobe and took out her leotard.

"Im Adrian. Nice to meet you." Mollia walked into the bathroom and closed the door.

"So Adrian tell me why are you so nervous."

"Umm. Well there has been talk that the Phantom is back and has come for Christine'

only daughter." Mollia froze, she opened the door once she was done.

"But I'm Christine's only daughter. That would mean. No, he didn't he..no." Mollia

began to sob. "So it is true than he did kidnap my mother and now he's after me her only child.

The only thing that has any part of her inside is me. Of course he would want me. My father tells

me that I have grown up to be a spitting image of her." Adrian just stared at her while she

babbled on and on. She glanced at the mirror and then got up and took Mollia's hand. "Hurry or

else we will be late. Madame Girl would get mad at me." Adrian hurried out of the room with her

and led her to the stage. Mollia looked at the seats and then up at the big chandelier. It's lights

seemed like they would never go out. It sparkled and glowed and there were figures built into the

walls. Then Mollia glanced at box five and a shiver ran down her spine. Madame Girl grabbed

her and pulled her away. She harshly whispered in Mollia's ear.

"You want nothing to do with him. After practice come to my room and we will talk. Don't fear him, he would not harm you." She pulled away and instructed for everyone to stretch.

Mollia felt like she was being watched by someone. It was weird. Madame Girl helped everyone

through the dance steps for the first ballet in the opera. She told Mollia that she can either watch

on the sidelines because she is not dancing in this opera she has the lead role. Or she can practice

singing. The opening opera was Hannibal.

"I think I will practice singing Madame Girl. Tomorrow I might dance" Mollia walked to

the piano and noticed that the music was already there. She decided to go with the aria. She

gasped it was the song that her mother sang her to sleep with. It was the whole song. She smiled

and began to play the intro on the piano. She started to sing,

_Think of me,_

_Think of me fondly when we've said goodbye._

_Remember me once in a while please promise me you'll try,_

_When you find that once again you long to take your heart back and be free_

_if you ever find a moment spare a thought for me._

_We never said our love was evergreen_

_or as unchanging as the sea,_

_but if you can still remember _

_Stop and think of me._

_Think of all the things we've shared and seen_

_Don't think about the way things might have been._

_Think of me _

_Think of me waking, silent and resigned_

_Imagine me_

_trying too hard to put you from my mind_

_Recall those days_,_look back at all those times,_

_Think of things we'll never do_

_There will never be a day when I won't think of you!_

That last note echoed throughout the empty house and she finally noticed that the ballerinas had

stopped dancing.

"She's the daughter of Christine. They say that he has returned for his kin. She's a weird one." one girl whispered to her partner. Mollia heard a slapping noise and the girl was on the

ground.

"I will have no talk of that kind amongst my dancers. Mollia is no different than you she

just has a higher music talent than most!"The girl got up and ran off her friend followed. Once

they left Mollia couldn't help herself you burst out in laughter. Madame Girl had the girls dance

more and she came over to her.

"You truly do have your mother in you. And a lot of your father. I am sorry for that but I

will not have people be rude."

"It's okay Madame Girl what are you apologizing for you were awesome."

Mollia hugged her and walked back to her dressing room. There awaited a Deep red rose

with a black ribbon tied around it. She heard another knock on the door. She placed the rose on

her vanity and opened the door.

"Did you see the look on that girls face!Ha! I would pay to see that again!" Adrian burst

into a laughing fit and fell on the floor in Mollia's room. Mollia started to laugh too. Both the

girls got up and started to talk about the new opera and Mollia learned that the girl who got

slapped was Rosemary and her friend was Julia. Everyone thinks that she lives and dances here

because her parents could not handle her anymore. Mollia and Adrian talked for a half an hour

and then Adrian noticed the rose.

"Where did you get that?" She asked as started to back away from the rose."

" I don't know when I came back to my room it was on my pillow. AHH! I have to go. I

forgot to meet with Madame Girl. I am sorry but I must leave." Mollia rushed out of the room

making sure not to shut the door behind her.

Adrian stood in the room alone and looked at the rose she walked up to it and reached out

to touch it. Just as her fingers almost grazed it the bedroom door flew shut. She gasped and

looked at the door no one was there.

"Who's there" She spun around but no one was there. She walked to the door and

someone's arm slipped around her waist. She stiffened and opened her mouth to scream but it

was covered by a gloved hand. While kicking and fighting she was carried over to the bed and

was sat down. The phantom sat next to her. Adrian was to scared to move.

"I will not hurt you, you are a good friend of Mollia's are you not?" The phantom waited

about five minutes. "Answer me girl." he said impatiently.

"Yea. Please don't harm Mollia. She has done nothing wrong."

The phantom grew a little angry. " I would never dream of harming her. Now Tomorrow

night make sure she goes down to the chapel. You will be rewarded if you do." Adrian got mad.

"I will not turn my friend into you for a reward!" She exclaimed and made a dash for the

door, but the phantom was to quick and had he pinned against the wall.

"If you don't then I will have to fetch her and you and you will live with me forever

because you have both seen me." Adrian nodded and agreed to do It. The phantom released her

and Adrian ran from the room.

" That did not go as I planned. I must have a word with Madame Girl." The phantom

disappeared into thin air.

Mollia quietly knocked on Madame Giry's door. A few moments later the door opened a

crack and once Madame Girl noticed that it was Mollia she quickly ushered (I love that word

ushered) her inside and locked the door.

"You wanted to talk to me Madame Girl?" Mollia asked as Madame Girl had her sit

down on the sofa.

"Yes I wanted to talk about your angel. You are getting yourself into something that could

ruin your life Mollia. I want you to know that he is mad and has had his heart broken many times.

He has gotten to the point that when he falls for someone he becomes obsessed and I am

beginning to think that what happened with your mother is going to happen to you. I don't want

that." Mollia grew angry at madame Girl. She stood and her face turned red.

" You guys think that he is mad just because he is different. I guess that makes me mad to

just because I am musically talented and I can play better than people who have played way

longer than me. He is no different from anyone else. So What if he is a genius. He is kind hearted

and mis understood. Just like I am. Devil's Child that is what you people call him. What about

me am I to be witch or Devil's spawn, for the rest of my life." Mollia's eyes filled with tears and

she sat back down. Madame Girl was taken back at Mollia's behaviors. Madame Girl walked

over to her desk and took a white mask.

"Child have you seen his face yet?" Mollia was very confused at this point. She thought

about it and realized that she has but only part of it.

"Yes but only part of it the shadows hid the rest."

" Well you see this was his mask. After he let your mother go with your father he left this

and my daughter went down with the police. She found this but the phantom was no where to be

found. I wonder maybe he uses the black one from when he performed his opera." Madame Girl

was deep in thought and did not notice that Mollia was still crying. She finally looked at Mollia

"Mollia why are you crying?" Madame Girl sat next to her and tried to comfort her.

"In a way I can feel his pain. Losing what you loved the most and being made fun off and

treated as an out cast because you are different. You heard those girls. They were right he has

come back to me. But the only difference from my mother is that my angel and me have

similarities and I am not going to run when I see why he is hiding behind a mask." Mollia stood

and bided Madame Girl Farewell and left.

"Come out Erik I know that you are there." Madame Girl turned to her desk and Erik

popped down behind her.

" I did not know that she cared for me so much. I have come for my mask and to warn

you. If anyone gets in my way you will not see them again. So I would be wiser and next time

think twice about having your daughter going down to my house and taking my belongings

understood." Madame Giry's eyes grew wide with fear and she handed Erik his mask and

nodded.

"I am sorry that I have betrayed you Erik but please don't let what happened last time

happen again okay?" Erik nodded and handed Madame Girl a note with the traditional red skull

on the back

" Can you make sure that the managers get this my salary has not been paid and if they do

not want history to repeat itself they should see to it that it is paid." Erik turned and disappeared

through a trap door. Madame Girl hurried out the door but was stopped by Erik. She almost

screamed but Erik covered her mouth.

"I almost forgot do not tell Mollia anything else unless I permit it." With that he

disappeared and Madame Girl shook it off and walked straight to the managers.

Mean while Adrian was searching for Mollia, when they both bumped into each other in

the hall.

"ADRIAN!!" Mollia squealed,

"MOLLIA!!" Adrian embraced her friend.

"Mollia after the show I want you to come to the chapel. I need to pray for my brother and

you need to pray for your mother and grandfather. Okay?"

"Yea sure. I can't wait till tonight. Im a little nervous. Maybe I should tell them I'm sick."

Mollia looked to the ground.

"Mollia what are you so scared of?" Adrian asked while walking down the hall with

Mollia.

"My mother said that she thought she met the angel of music but it was just a crazy man

and I man and I am beginning to wonder if that man is posing as my angel of music. I want to

believe that he is my real angel but what if I'm wrong and what happened to my mother happens

to me. I'm sorry but I'm going to go. I must ask someone something. Please excuse me Adrian."

Adrian gave her friend a sympathetic look and watched as she ran to the chapel and then she

thought more and more of how the phantom of the opera had told her to send her friend to the

chapel and Adrian began to run. First she ran to the chapel and found that the door was locked.

She was about to knock, but her hand was grabbed and twisted behind her back. Someone or

something harshly whispered in her ear,

"Remember what I said girl. Leave her be. I will not take her or you now. If you tell

anyone you will never see the light again."Adrian tried to scream but a cloth was placed over her

nose and mouth.

" Do not fight it girl, it will just string more." The voice whispered as Adrian's world

slowly slipped away into darkness.

Madame Girl was worried neither Mollia or Adrian showed up for practice. It was not

like Adrian to be late. She could see Mollia being late but Adrian had never.

"Okay girls stretch and prepare. I will be back in a few minutes." Madame Girl hurried

down the hall to the chapel.

"Erik what have you done now?" She thought aloud.

"Well, nothing really." Erik replied and jumped from a rafter.

"Except taken care of that girl who has gotten in the way. I thought I told you that if you

sent anyone they would not be seen again." Madame Girl became frightened.

"Oh Erik please I have not sent anyone. Mollia has not shown up for dance and neither

has Adrian. I am worried." Erik's evil smirk was washed from his face and he became very pale.

"What do you mean Mollia never showed up for practice. I watched her leave the chapel

and make her way to the stage!" Erik growled in anger .Then he took a rope from the wall and

made a punjab lasso.

" If Jones has touched her he will never see the light of day or rather anything from this

point on. Adrian is locked in her room by the way. She interfered so I put her in there for safe

keeping." Erik disappeared.

Meanwhile in the back of the opera house you could her a girl struggling and a man

yelling. Jones Tied the girl to the bed and smacked her hard to shut her up. Hot tears spilled

down her cheek.

"I told you to shut the hell up girl. Your just like the rest of them why cant you just go

with it and let it happen. Mollia wasn't listening. She was to busy trying to free herself. This man

Jones or what ever his name is had already gotten most of her clothes off.

"Please don't do this. You don't know who you are messing with. I am Mollia Daee. My

father is Raoul De Changney and if he found out what you did he would have your head." Mollia

tried to scare the man but he jumped on top of her.

"All the more adventure. The pretty daughter of Christine and Raoul. Oh how the scene

shifters will get a kick out of th. ." The man never got to finish what he was about to say because

a rope was around his neck and Mollia fainted.

Erik threw the man to the side and ripped open his shirt and with a knife carved.

You had better teach your perverted stage hands to keep their filthy hands off of the girls

O.G

Erik wrapped Mollia in his cape and picked her up bridal style. He rushed through the halls and

found Madame Girl.

"Oh my god what happened to her?" Madame Girl led Erik to Mollia's room and went to

get her medical kit. When she came back Erik was sitting right besides Mollia and was holding

her hand.

I shouldn't have left her out of my sight. I hope that she can forgive me."

"Erik! Do not talk non sense of course she will forgive you. And do not blame what

happened on yourself. Erik tended to Mollia's cut wrists and bruised neck and cheek.

"Madame Girl is it okay if I bring her to my home?" Madame Girl thought about it and

then sighed.

" Yes. She truly cares for you and I can tell that you deeply care for her. Bring her back

tomorrow morning." Madame Girl stiffened when Erik embraced her. Even Erik was surprised

my his own actions. He picked up Mollia and slipped past the mirror.


	3. Chapter 2

Sorry for the long delay. I have had writers block for quite a while, and just found some inspiration. This chapter is short but hopefully the next will be up soon. I have all Christmas Break, so there should be more soon!

thank you to those who ahve supported me and read my story, and reviewed. I LOVE YOU ALL!!!!!!

Disclaimer: I do not own any other the things that are in "The Phantom of the Opera" Andrew Lloyd Webber and Gaston Leroux do. I do own Mollia and other original characters. THIS GOES FOR ALL THE CHAPTERS! IT WILL NOT BE REPEATED IN EVERY ONE OF THEM!

Chapter Two

For the next three hours, Erik watched Mollia carefully, waiting for her to wake up and hate him for everything. Waiting for that one moment where she never wants to see him again, just like her mother. Her sweet mother, who turned away from her angel, to love a prissy boy. Anger filled Erik's insides at the thought of Raoul, but when he looked at the girl laying in his bed, fainted, his heart softened. She looked just like her mother, but she acted nothing like either of her parents. She was different than the both of them, she wasn't afraid to be different, she understood him. It was weird.

Mollia awoke slowly, memories quickly filling her mind. Her once relaxed body went rigid, and she slowly moved her hand across her body relieved to find that she was clothed, but relief left as she realized she was in a different bed. Eyes snapping open she met those of Erik's, fear continuing to rule her body.

"He didn't….. did he?" her voice wavered at the thought of what that man could have done to her and when Erik shook his head side to side Mollia was overcome with tears. She jumped up and embraced Erik. Erik froze and than relaxed wrapping his arms around her and rubbing her back.

"Oh.. Angel,, you saved m me. I was so scared that he was going to…." She couldn't finish, her eyes welled with more tears as a ball of fright clogged her beautiful voice. She sobbed and buried her face into his shoulder, her body shaking uncontrollably.

"Shh. Mollia, do not fear. He did not do anything to you in that sense. I was there before he could. He won't touch anyone for a long, long time." Mollia nodded into his shirt and still cried. When she pulled her head back up, she leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss underneath the edge of his mask next to his mouth.

"Thank you." Erik smiled down at his new little angel. She was a treasure, and she wanted to be there with him. Why? This was the question that constantly plagued Erik's mind. A beautiful young lady like herself had chosen his, a twisted freak, to be her savior.

"I would do anything for you mon petite ange. You need your rest, I shall leave you to sleep, and return in an hour with food." Erik stood to leave, but Mollia tightened her hold on his hand.

"Don't leave me please. I am frightened." Tears welled in her beautiful eyes. Erik gave in instantly and sat down next to her urging her to lay down and as he held her in his arms.

"I need music, Angel. People don't understand that. I live for music, and music lives for me. I feel, I feel as if I have become music's slave, or rather, music's companion. When I get lonely my music is there, but always, I feel as if something is missing. I realize now, that that one thing was the absence of the angel of music. Angel, my angel of music, will you ever leave me?" Her voice held the startling truth, and silent tears were born in Erik's eyes.

"I will only leave if you want me to, mon petite ange." He smiled against her head, and she snuggled into him.

"Good, because I never want you to leave, I need you. Will you sing for me?" Her question hung in the air for a mere second, and then Erik sang. The angel of music's voice floated through the cellar floors and into the opera house. His angelic voice soothed the children and all acquaintances. But it chilled the souls of those from the past, and reminded them, that he had returned. But below, there were no thoughts of the future or realization that there was anyone else on the planet. There was just the Angel of Music singing to his little protégé. Unknown to the world, and the heavens above, the Angel of music, form that point on, was a slave to Mollia. He would not be able to refuse anything, and in the eyes of a stranger, they would consider it a case of, love at first sight.


	4. Chapter 3

Erik awoke, the memory of the nights sweet dreams floating lethargically throughout his mind. He looked over to his little protégé with a lazy smile spread across his face, but she was not there. Erik jumped up off the bed with ease from lying atop the covers, respecting his little protégé's privacy. He found her on the floor next to the bed, violently shaking and turning, groans filling the silent air. His shakes were not effective in waking her up, so, he gathered her into his arms, and she fought him the whole way. So he rubbed her head, spilling soothing words into her ear.

She woke with a scream, and when she saw her angel before her, she broke down into a heaving, sobbing lump of a human. Confusion filled Erik as he sat, dumbfounded and bewildered at her sudden extreme behavior.

"He tried to get me. He caught me and he… he… oh, angel!!" Erik huddled her closer as she cried more into his shirt. Suddenly he understood what was occurring. She had a dream about that abusive block headed stage hand. That dirty, filthy, lowly excuse for a man, deserved his fate of the Punjab, and Erik was glad that it was by his hands. Maybe next time the mangers of _his _Opera House will be careful in choosing their stagehands, making sure that they are not drunk perverts!

"Shh. . . Mollia it was just a dream. That man will never touch you again. I will protect you. Please do not cry. It pains me to see those beautiful eyes shed those sorrowful and frightened tears. I want to see those exquisite eyes filled with joy and wonder, and those porcelain cheeks dry with the absent of tears, not wet with the presence of them." His voice was sincere and she giggled after a large sniffle.

"You flatter me angel." Tenderly she wrapped her arms around his waist, as a child would her father. Not knowing how to react, Erik quickly detached himself from her arms and stood. Perhaps too coldly he stuck out his hand and spoke,

"I promised Madame Giry that I would return you to her world of light and deafness in the morning. It is already well past noon, and the managers will surely be looking for my little protégé. Come, you must shed you music upon the ears of those who will not understand it. Tonight, be in your room by nine, and I will come to meet you. Stand in front of your mirror when you hear three knocks at your door. Three no more no less, now come." Wondering if she had done anything wrong, Mollia took her angels hand, and let her lead her above, where she was bound to be teased and question by the ballet rats, and confronted by her one true friend and Madame Giry. _Oh Joy… _she thought as she was pushed through a trap door in Madame Giry's room.


	5. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: ANy songs I use in this story are not mine unless I say so, and sadly I do not hold rights to the phantom of the opera.

A/N: I finally got an idea and just started typing. Yay for me!! SO here it is. Hopefully this will get my creative juices flowing enough to update each story a few times.

Please read, and review!!

Its almost midnight, and I am exhausted, so please dismiss any bad grammar.

Thanks!!

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"Where is Mollia Madame Giry! WE will not ask politely anymore. You will tell us or we will search the room to which you are banning us entrance!" The managers' words were laced with utter annoyance and rage. Both their faces were red with fury and their eyes popped out like madmen.

"Mollia is resting and isn't feeling well. I permitted her rest in the haven of my personal quarters so that she may actually be able to acquire the rest that she requires. I will bring her out once she is feeling better. You two do not want another Prima Donas collapsing on the stage, or do you love having to sit through auditions, to which most are ghastly!" Madame Giry thought that it would calm the managers and get them off of her case, but it only fueled their anger.

Creek... Mollia peeked out the door and appeared next to Madame Giry looking exhausted with her red eyes and dreamy look they held. She bore her sleeping attire, and rubbed at her eye while coughing.

"I apologize for being the cause of such commotion monsieurs, but I was not feeling well, and the other girls would not permit me any rest so I came to see Madame Giry." Immediately the managers' faces stared down the floor with embarrassment.

"It is quite all right Mollia. We just wanted to make sure that the story we were given was correct and we now see that it is. Rest as much as you can, and we will send the maestro down here with the score for the new opera." They both bowed and hurried away, bouncing into each other like two resisting magnets. Once out of sight and ear, Madame Giry embraced Mollia. Like a nervous mother she went off.

"My dearest are you ok? What did that stage hand do? Did Erik treat you nicely?" The string of questions were mudded together in approximately three seconds flat, and Mollia brain was functioning on low fuel. While being carted back into the Madame room she answered the questions in a yawn.

"I am shaken, but ok. The stage hand thought he could get his way with be but my Angel saved me in the nick of time, and yes her treated me like a princess. He took care of me, and comforted me, and, and. Oh Madame Giry, I think I am falling in love with him, but he is so much older than me, and I do not know what to do!" Mollia collapsed on the couch and Madame Giry sat next to her and patted the hands in her lap.

"You must be careful with Erik, for he has been hurt a lot. As for loving him, follow your heart. I did not and it has hurt me ever since. I do not know how Erik will react if you confess, but I can see that he will not harm you. He has never truly harmed a girl .Well at least not physically. Carlotta was an exception." Mollia nodded, silently taking all of the information in, and using some of Madame Giry's comments to piece together how she felt about Erik. Madame Giry left her soon after that, and headed down to the kitchen to fetch a meal for a very famished feeling Mollia. While laying alone of the couch, Mollia started drifting off into the deep realm of sleep and dreams. Before she was completely lost, she spoke four words that would forever seal her fate.

"I love you angel." And as she was swallowed by dreams she could faintly hear a deep voice reply.

"And I you." Finally she was singing and living with her Angel, by his side forever, in her dreams.


	6. Chapter 5

1A/N: Here is another chapter that I wanted to get up before school. Please review. I only got one on the last update and I loved it, but still I would like to see more. Please please please tell me what you think.

Off to school I go. . ugh finals start Wednesday.

Enjoy!

Mollia woke up to the scent of cinnamon and maple, and her stomach growled ferociously. She opened her eyes and was greeted by the site of two amazing looking waffles and two hard boiled eggs. She instantly sat up and dug in, and it wasn't long before Madame Giry came in and sat with her for a while.

"May I go to practice Madame Giry?" She pleaded not wishing to miss what she always wanted to do.

"I will bring you once your stomach has settled. I myself must go there now and teach the troupe their new choreography." She left without another word, and Mollia was left with nothing to do, and so she sang. Well, she really just started humming along and trying to put the right notes together and form her own composition in her head. Her little moment of privacy ended when she felt that someone was with her, watching her from somewhere. Courageously she spoke out.

"Who is there?" She did not have to wait long, for two hand landed down on her shoulders, and she spun around quickly staring down who ever it was.

"Do not be frightened it is only I, your angel. I came to check on you and see how you are doing." He spoke softly and smiled at her.

"I shall have to begin to call you my little courageous one, or defiant one with the way that you have been starting to act. Lying to the managers and standing up to a drunk stagehand. You are a very talented actress as well as singer." Mollia blushed and looked to the ground.

"Angel... I have a question.. Did you.." She tried to mumble it out, "Before I fell asleep last night, did you hear what I said?" She felt her head tilt up and his hand, surprisingly not gloved, under her chin.

"What did you say last night, Mollia?" He was curious and Mollia wished that she could take back her question, but it was already out in the open and there was no use hiding it now.

"I said.. I said that I loved you." She looked up at him waiting for rejection.

"And I replied with 'and I you'" She smiled a little and was caught by surprise when her angel leaned in a planted a gentle kiss on her lips. She stayed frozen with shock, and when he pulled away she just looked at him awestruck and confused. He took it in the wrong way.

"I apologize Mademoiselle. I can tell that that is what you did not desire. I will leave you now for rehearsal. Farewell." He disappeared into the shadows and Mollia frowned tears, the tears that she had shed too much lately came back. She wasn't rejecting him, she loved him.

"Angel! I was just caught by surprise. I did want that, but, but, oh angel .I am so sorry." She collapsed and when Madame Giry found her she was out cold, and shaking, her face sweating and clammy. Mollia faintly heard.

"Oh god! Mollia! Someone get the doctor!"


	7. Chapter 6

_**A/N:**_ I am glad to announce that I have a beta reader!! **Anne52** is like my favorite person of all time right now, and a lot of credit for this story goes to her. She is helping me so much, and she has greatly improved this chapter unlike anything that I could do. So please take the time to thank her, and review!

--

The doctors had tried everything to wake Mollia from her feverish slumber. They had bled her, given her all the herbs and medication that they could. She would not wake. All they could do was monitor her, and Madame Giry needed to inform someone of his little protege's condition.As she made her way down, fierce howls and heart wrenching sobs filled the moist, stale air.

His lair was torn apart, much like the night the police searched through it. The mirrors were smashed, shards littering the ground, everything in disarray. And there he was, the Phantom of the Opera. Erik himself lay on the ground, clutching at the mask in his lap.

"ERIK!" Madame Giry rushed to him and reached out, but he slapped her hand away.

"What do you want hag," he spat, the good half of his face distorted with misery. "You want to mock me because Mollia refused my kiss, is that what it is? If so, then go ahead. She was frightened of me and my awful distortion, just like her mother." Madame Giry picked herself up and began to walk off, but before leaving she turned to him, unable to contain herself.

"In all my days of caring for you, Erik. I never would have expected it to come down to this. The reason I came down here was to tell you that Mollia collapsed shortly after I left to head to the rehearsal. We cannot get her to wake up, and the doctors are fearing for the worst. She needs you Erik. She did not refuse your kiss, she was shocked at the action. I told her that you might not react well to her confession, but it seems you did, and that caught her off guard. Go to her Erik, she loves you, and if you choose not to go, it only proves how distorted you really are. "

For two days, there was no sign of Erik, and Mollia's progression traveled even further downhill. Madame Giry had tried to force feed her so she wouldn't die of starvation, but nothing was working. The doctors had given up hope and left, convincing the managers that there was nothing they could do, and it only lead to the cause of more problems.

The managers found a new Prima Donna, and she even took Mollia's old bed. If Mollia ever came to, she would most likely be forced out of the Opera House.

On the third day of Mollia's coma state, Erik came. Madame Giry was there, and she sensed him before he entered. He glided in silently and sat himself at Mollia's side, placing his hand on her chilled cheek. She stirred and moved a little, and Madame Giry shot up.

"She senses you Erik! She hasn't moved since she became sick." The elder woman spoke hopefully.

"Angel... please... don't... don't be mad at me..." She was still unconscious, but Erik knew she was talking to him in that moment.

"Oh mon ami. I was not angry at you . I just didn't know how to channel your reaction. You must pull yourself from this sickened state Mollia. Pull yourself out and come back. If you perish my heart shall perish too, for it no longer belongs to me." And slowly she cracked open an eye.

"What happened?" Erik sighed in relief and gathered Mollia into his arms. He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead lovingly.

"All that matters is that you are alive," he answered, and she sighed, closing her eyes until she heard the voice of Madame Giry.

"I have heard of this, but never have I seen it. Mollia was stricken with love sickness. She couldn't have your love, and so she let her body go, not caring about what would have happened to her."

Erik looked down at Mollia and smiled shyly, kissing her forehead again. Her hair was greasy and her skin a pasty pale, but she was still excruciatingly beautiful to Erik.

He refused to leave her, even with Madame Giry on his back, and that night he fell asleep with his angel in his arms.


	8. Chapter 7

1A/N: **I MADE A HUGE MISTAKE!! **Ok, Anne52, my lovely beta, who saved me from making this story horrid, noticed that Mollia is in the 13 or 14 age range making our Phantom seem like a pedophile, and I do not want that. So Mollia is really supposed to be 20, and I apologize for not originally writing it like that...

Also, because I now have Anne looking over all of my work, and adding things here and there that make the story pop out at you. I am going to re-write the first few chapters, send them to Anne and then post them up again! Anne52, you rock!! Everyone should take the time to thank Anne, because without her this story would seriously be nothing.

So enjoy!

CHAPTER SEVEN!!

"Ma Chere, you must wake from your slumber and eat--your onion soup and bread have arrived."

Her eyelids cracked, the sudden strain on the muscles sending sparkles across her vision. The light shining in her room strengthened them. She became only partially aware of being propped up against something sturdy and warm--until it moved. A sweet sigh whispered across her lips, its echo heard behind her.

She was leaning against Erik. Erik, the angel who had never left her side since she woke from her fever and had never stopped loving her when all odds seemed stacked against her.

The warm liquid felt delectable as it slid down her parched throat, forcing her to greedily swallow every mouthful. The rumble in his chest behind her signaled a chuckle and the warm liquid was taken from her lips, forcing a dissatisfied groan.

"Slow down ma chere. We do not wish for you to fall ill again, do we?" Her greasy hair stuck to her clammy head as she enthusiastically shook her head in reply. Gently, she allowed her voice to croak out a few words.

"I feel much better today, angel." She snuggled to him, coughing slightly at the new use of her voice. He sat back and stroked her hair gently, as if she were a porcelain figurine.

"I am glad to hear you speak. Soon you will be up and walking, and in no time I will have you singing your heart out again."

She slept soon after he finished feeding her, and it wasn't for another two days that she started to walk. Her first steps were shaky, both of her hands gripped Erik's arms as if death was waiting for her. She tried again and again, forcing herself to take short breaks to rest her healing body, and after a few hours she was walking, occasionally grabbing something to steady her weak legs

After a few days she became less dependent on Erik, and more dependent of her feet. She was able to bathe and dress, as well as fetch her own food, but she refused to step foot anywhere if Erik was not by her side.

After two weeks of caring for Mollia, Erik knew he had to get back to work. Rumors would start to float around that the opera ghost was gone, and he knew that nothing good would come out of rumors.

"Mollia, I have to leave for a little while. The managers are doubting me, and so I have work to finish. I fear that I have waited too long, and the longer I wait, the worse the work will be." He tried to walk away, but Mollia grabbed his arms, tears welling in her eyes, and her soft hiccups floated about the room. It was then that she fainted, falling straight into his arms. She came-to quickly, in her angels arms as she hoped.

"Please? Do not leave me angel."

Those words kept him at her side. He had become, not only a slave to music, but also a slave to his beloved Mollia. She held his heart within her hand, and the smallest squeeze could destroy him. She told him that night point-blank that she would give up anything to be with him. She promised him that she would end her career, but he wouldn't allow it.

"Mollia, ending your career would not leave you happy. I want you to live your life. I will always be with you, no matter what. I am so sorry." He couldn't hold his guilt-ridden self together any longer, and he broke down. Tears poured down his mask, and he looked at her, pleading her forgiveness.

"Erik, please don't cry. You are not at fault for my actions." Mollia gathered a sobbing Erik into her arms and cried with him. Their silent sobs were only able to reach the ears of a probing Madame Giry who waited on the other side of the door.

"Angel! I feel so good today. I feel like I could run down every street in Paris--twice!" She twirled, her face aglow and warm, just how it should be. She had gained back some of the weight lost due to her illness, and her curves tempted Erik beyond belief.

"I too feel ecstatic Mollia. I have persuaded the managers to drop their new Prima Donna, and you start rehearsal tomorrow! It is wonderful."

He could sense her fear before it even started to appear in her eyes. He drew her into his arms, locking her in his embrace.

"I will be at every rehearsal, ma chere. Do not be afraid, for in the shadows I shall loom. You will not be able to see me, but you shall sense me and feel me. I have done this all for you Mollia, and I wish for you to be happy."

Mollia attended the next three rehearsals, sensing her angel and staying calm. It wasn't until the fourth rehearsal, that she became anxious. She couldn't sense him. She knew he wasn't there and it frightened her to no end. Madame Giry sensed it and dismissed Mollia from rehearsal, telling her to rest.

The Phantom of the Opera was in the midst of something important. The managers were having a very interesting conversation amongst themselves.

"Damn the Phantom! Damn him and his charades to Hell!" The manager's tone was something fiercesome. His face contorted with anger. Raoul sat obediently across from him, his eyes shadowed with the memory of sleepless nights. He had a plan, but he could almost predict the manager's reacion. Clearly his thoughts allowed his plan to flow.

"Maybe we can reason with the Phantom. See if he can delay his payment until the opera house is back on its feet. He would be forced to comply with our request because, what's an opera ghost if there is no longer an opera to haunt." Raoul's voice was weary and his hand, wrinkled with aging, subconsciously glided to the level of his eyes.

The office around them only heightened their sense of stress--countless bills strewn across desks and other usable surfaces, each with their own LATE stamped across the front.

"I am not going to seek help from the hell-ridden monster, especially when he is the very thing that put us in this precarious situation!" The manager's words, set in stone, zip-lined through the wall and into the ears of a highly irritated Phantom.

As quietly as possible Erik stormed to his home, and it was there that he realized the only solution to his little problem. The Opera Ghost would have to retire. He refused to give up his pay check and lose the reputation that he had spent an eternity building up. The Opera Ghost was not a soft and kind individual.

Erik knew that Mollia would be upset if he kept it from her any longer, so he made his way to her room, waiting to gauge her reaction to his surprising news.

He didn't even have time to fully enter Mollia's room before she collapsed against him. Shocked by the sudden impact Erik froze in place confused, and then worried.

"They--they are closing down the Opera House, Angel!" Her sob muffled her words and his shirt muffled her sobs. Carefully, he lifted her and set her on the bed, sitting next to her.

"Mollia, they are closing down because of me, because I took too much money. I fear the only thing that I can do to fix this is retire. I will no longer be the Opera Ghost, or the Phantom. I will only be your angel, your Erik." Mollia shook her head and jumped away from him.

"No! I am not going to let you do that, Erik! The opera has been your life for so long. It would be wrong to have you give it all up!" She looked at him, slightly glaring. "How could you even think of such a horrid thing. There has to be a way!"

She turned to her lightly burning fire. His hands landed on her shoulders roughly and she spun round.

"You think this is what I want?! This is not what I had planned Mollia, but it is the only option, unless you want us both to lose what we love most!" The words were out, and it took two long moments before Erik figured out that he had unleashed his temper again.

"I have a plan Erik--and just to let you know, you are the thing that I love the most, not singing. You come first. What if you agree to end their rent, and as collateral take me to your home and only allow me to come up for rehearsals and performances? No one knows about us, and everyone will think that it is just the Phantom being the Phantom. Plus, you probably have enough money to lay off for a while, and this way you won't lose your reputation. Would that work?"

In a whirlwind of emotions Mollia was spinning in the arms of Erik.

"Oh, my sweet little butterfly, you mind is the most exquisite thing! That is positively diabolical. I love it, and I love you most!"

Mollia giggled, her face flushing at the pet name, but another problem would soon arrive. How were they going to propose the plan without giving themselves away? However, together they were already hard at work devising another plan.


	9. Chapter 8

**1A/N : I must apologize for the lack of updating. School is getting to me, and the new braces and palete expander don't make my days easier. Family troubles also take their toll. So please bear with me while my life decides to attack me.**

**Please read and review. I need feedback to know if I am still on the right track. I already know what is going to be in the next chapter, I just have to write it.**

**Thanks to my beta once again. Anne52! You Rock!!**

Chapter 8

"I will not stand for this Mollia! You will be returning home immediately, and I am sickened by the mere thought that you would give to this situation. I am not allowing you to do this. I already lost your mother, and I refuse to let you go, too. There are other Opera Houses--both bigger and better--that you can sing at!"

Raoul's wrinkled face burned with anger, his breath, heavy and heaving from his old age. His blood pressure must have been through the roof, but Mollia pushed aside her fears of making it worse.

"Calm down Father, before I am forced to lose my last parent to a heart attack. Do you truly think that I want to spend my life with someone who is notorious for killing people and lurking in the shadows, watching everyone? I am not doing this for my own personal gain, Father, I am doing this so that this beautiful form of art and architecture will not go to waste. I will not be responsible for the fall of this opera house, and I will most definitely not stand for holding the hatred of so many hearts."

Her voice chilled. In all reality she was doing this for her own gain; she was going to do this for Erik. Just having the name echo in her mind brought the memories of his voice, sensuous and seductive. Her skin shivered as she thought of his leather gloves upon her skin, his deep breath lingering in her ear, warming her already burning flesh. His eyes, always filled with intense emotion, and the way that they dragged over her body as if they were looking upon her for the last time.

She shivered noticeably and covered it up by rubbing her arms. She watched as her father's eyebrows knitted together, and his eyes turned to the managers, not finding help in them.

They agreed with Mollia, wishing to save their own incomes. Mollia found it proper to cut in again, adding salt to her father's growing wound.

"I am old enough to decided for myself Father, and I will defy you if I must!" Her voice remained cold, her eyes aflame with the same stubbornness as her father's when he had fought so hard to free Christine.

Raoul sighed, using the only tactic he had left. If it didn't work, then all hope was lost for his only child. With tears sliding down his wrinkled face, he let out a small sob.

"I cannot bear to lose you to that beast Mollia... Christine is already gone, and I-I will surely die if I am forced to lose you to. I beg of you. Do not do this to me."

Mollia could see the pain etched in his face, each wrinkle representing a crack in his heart--his breaking heart which tore at her own with the ferocity of a starving tiger. She refused the tears that were on the verge of falling, as her hands found the shoulders of her father.

His skin was soft, his bones fragile and brittle. He was a skeleton underneath Mollia's petite hands, and whether she agreed with Erik and accepted, or disagreed and declined, no amount of love could help her already broken father.

"You will be fine, Father; as will I. I am stronger than most would assume, and if this man--and that is all he is--tries anything, he will see the true fury of a de Changy. I must do this, Papa, for the sake of this establishment and the art that is created within it every day. You must force yourself to understand my reasons."

She brought on her best poker face and left her crumbling father alone in that office with head hung.

The heart wrenching sobs echoed in her ears as she walked to her room, the managers flanking her.

"Are you positive that this is what you want to do, mademoiselle? We fully understand if you do not wish to do this. We might not be able to protect you once you are down there." They were worried, for their reputation, and Mollia made the best attempt at keeping the disgust from showing, but she couldn't repress the slight curl of her lip. He voice was as cold as it could be when she found the control to speak.

"If I were not sure of this, messieurs, than I would not have talked to my father in such a manner that would leave him nothing but a sobbing mass. When I am gone, I want you two to see to his health, as a personal favor, and ensure him that I am OK. I will send letters if I am allowed to, and I want you to bring them to him."

Mollia turned and looked at the two fools one last time before shutting her door in their faces. Her features contorted in pain and she allowed her listless body to slide down the door, releasing her soft sobs into the atmosphere of her bedroom.

Erik entered her bedroom, his face falling when she wasn't present. He recalled her soft smile and vibrant eyes looking at him with all of the love that he had never been given. That voice, sweeter than the angels' and stronger--no, better--than her mother's. He could picture her delicate hands as they touched his cheek gently, gliding wherever they pleased, the sweet and soothing words that she would whisper in the hollow of his ear.

He could feel his body heat rise and quickly contained his thoughts as the bedroom door opened and closed. There was his perfect angel, crying on the floor, her tears causing red blotches around her eyes. She sat against the mahogany door, not realizing that her angel watched her from the bed.

When she did look up, her eyes begged for Erik to go to her, but he stayed on the soft comforter, unable to figure out the reason for her tears.

"I do not know if I can do this Erik. My father," her voice cracked, "His heart cannot take this. I cannot lose my only parent--" Her words were cut short by a sob that shook her petite frame.

Erik stormed from the bed and pulled her up as if she were a child, his hands roughly planting themselves upon her shoulders.

"So you would rather lose your career and happiness to save someone who is already heart broken and decaying in a wheelchair? I thought you loved me Mollia, and I thought that you were doing this for me. Must I remind you that you were the one to come up with this plan, and you were the one who promised to pull through no matter what? Did you truly think that your father would be fine with this plan? Are you are going to go to him, and waste your life?"

He shook her for a moment and then left her to herself, his mind filled with rage and his heart filled with pain. He would not allow himself to get so soft again. He was already hurt enough by her mother, and she would not do the same.

Mollia watched him go in silence, hoping that his temper would be calmed by the time he came for her.

_I have to do this, no matter what. I will not waste my life for my father, who has already given up his,_ she thought.

In under an hour she was packed, dragging her suitcase to the wings. She didn't expect that people would react the way they did. Throughout her whole walk, she received queer looks and whispers. The managers had opened up their fat and greedy mouths again.

The final straw was drawn when one woman yelled out a few choice words. Mollia stopped abruptly and turned, her voice hard and chilled.

"Am I not risking my safety and life for the sake of yours, Madame? I am doing this so that you can have a roof over your head, and food on your plate. So I would appreciate it if you showed me some respect." She didn't have to be rude to the Woman to get her point across. The woman muttered an apology and disappeared. Mollia walked away briskly, leaving her luggage in the wings. She had one person that she had to talk to. She had a couple questions about what to expect with Erik.

**Please review!**


	10. Chapter 9

A/N: Sorry for the lateness. I know that I am always apologizing but school is insane. Plus in mid December we got hit with a bad ice storm where I live and there was a lot of trees down and electrical damage. I didn't have school for almost 3 weeks so now all my teachers are trying to cram everything in before our mid term exams. So, hopefully we don't get another storm like this last one, which they are now calling, "The Ice Storm of 08' "

Thanks to my beta who is always putting her best effort into helping me and has truly made my story better. Thank you so much!

Please review! and enjoy!

Chapter 9

The mahogany door clicked shut; the sound resonated down the hallway that instilled a fear of notifying Erik she was here. She was wrong to risk Madame Giry's safety, for she knew that he did not take too kindly to having people reveal his secrets. The clock tower down the street sounded and Mollia ran as fast as she could, realizing what being late could do to the situation. The managers were already there, waiting for Mollia, pocket watches in hand.

"We almost thought you had backed out, Mademoiselle, but we are glad you decided to come." She could see the sweat cooling on their foreheads and glared at them, silently damning them for their cowardice**.**

"I am sorry Messieurs, I would have arrived earlier, but there was something I forgot to do. And it required my immediate attention. I hope that your fear of having to face the Opera Ghost without me here has come and gone." They frowned visibly, trying to mask what they already believed to be hidden. The clock struck midnight, and the stage darkened almost completely, excepting the mangers' lone candle. She heard a thud on the stage and immediately recognized it as the falling of a sandbag. That was when the Opera Ghost made his decent. She watched him the whole way. The process in which he followed was graceful and sly. His cloak whispered around his built body, and his leather glove, protecting the man's artistically calloused hand, made a silent decent as it slid down the rope. When he landed softly, the managers finally saw him, and their gasp hid his lone breath of exhaustion.

"Good evening Messieurs, and oh!" The look of surprise angered Mollia, and it infuriated her when he bowed lowly, but she curtsied none the less. "Oh, Mademoiselle, it is a delight that you chose to come here and to stay with me. You did choose to join me as my guest?" The managers looked at me, waiting for me to answer correctly like a trained puppy, sitting when told to.

"Yes Monsieur, I have decided that this Opera House is worth anything, including my freedom. I trust that you have prepared to seal the rest of your end?" Swiftly he produced an envelope, barely moving his cloak as he pulled it from his pocket. "Enough money for this month and also enough for the production cost. I trust that it will be a beautiful season with Mademoiselle Daee as our lead. Her voice, I dare say, is more spectacular and alluring than that of her mother's." His voice was sharp and cold. Mollia felt like the same icicles that protruded from his voice were scraping and puncturing her heart as he mentioned her mother.

"Thank you, Monsieur le Phantom. We personally guarantee you that this season will be the greatest. Now, we have work to do and must set to it at once. Farewell Mademoiselle, we will see you at tomorrow's rehearsal." They scurried away like rodents, leaving the mouse alone with the lion. Mollia sighed and looked at Erik, unknown sadness in her eyes. His eyes were not so pitying as he smirked and offered his open palm.

"We should take our leave now, Mademoiselle." Mollia nodded and walked forward a bit, taking his hand. Warm leather encased the skin of her palm and she was twirled around, her chest pressed against Erik's. She hesitated, looking into his eyes.

"Erik?" It was then that they dropped. She buried her face into his shirt collar. She kept her face like that, even after they had stopped falling. The tiny stubbles of his chin brushed her cheek and she could hear the soft grind of his teeth. He smelled like a man--not a disgusting man like a stagehand--but a deep musk with a hint of hidden fragrance. She felt so right being held against him, and she almost protested when he started to set her down.

"I trust that you can walk, Mademoiselle Daee?" That was it! She was sick of him being so formal and coming off as cold and uncaring.

"Why are you doing this Erik? Why are you being so cold?" She glared at him, and fell back a few steps when he stretched his height to the max. "Is it not the proper way to treat a lady, Mademoiselle, who would rather be somewhere else--a lady who didn't want to save the thing that she loved most?" Mollia eyes squinted as her face contorted in pain. She sucked her bottom lip in between her teeth as the tears welled in her broken eyes.

"I never said that I did not want to come here Erik. I always want to be with you, but seeing my father in so much pain, being the cause of that same pain--it broke a little piece of my heart, along side to the piece that shattered after my mother's death. I am sorry that I came across the wrong way Erik." She thought that he would soften. She thought that he would encase her into his arms and whisper words of relief and love into her ears, but he brushed past her.

"We have wasted too much time, Mademoiselle. We must reach my home soon, or I may not be able to retrieve your baggage tonight. And the opera scum will have already had their hands all over your things." He walked ahead a bit and stopped when Mollia did not follow. She stood there, her heart crushed, her face wet with the onslaught of tears, and her feelings wretched out of their hiding place deep within her and torn to shreds by his actions. She was still when he lifted her into his arms and cried softly into his chest as he carried her to his home.


	11. Chapter 10

**A/N: Sorry for the late updates! I was completely lost on what to do and I suddenly found inspiration a couple nights ago. Thanks to all of my reviewers! I love you all greatly! **

**A special thanks to my Beta! You are amazing Anne!**

****

Please review, length doesn't matter. I don't accept flames but constructive criticism is welcomed.  


**Enjoy!**

**As always I do not own the Phantom of the Opera and I am not making any form of profit from writing this.**

Chapter Ten

"I fear that I have driven you away, my darling little Mollia. I cannot bear the thought of you leaving me, and yet, it is an all too real possibility. Personality traits are passed down from ancestor to descendant and your mother was a very deceitful and spoiled child, always fussing when something did not benefit her and believing that everything revolved around her voice and herself. I was stupid, I gave her everything, and when I expected love and gratitude in return--" tears began to choke Erik "--In return she tore out my heart and hand fed it to the wolves."

His fingers brushed a strand of hair from her face in a small and loving gesture. Her hair was not as her mother's was. Christine's was beautiful, but it was coarse and thick. Mollia's was soft and smooth in his hands. "It is hard for one to grow another heart that is capable of the same trust and love that its had once been capable of, especially if the mind is accustomed to torture and pain. You must understand that poor Erik means no harm to you. I wish not to poison your mind, to place a gloomy cloud over your heart. My only wish is love, and though I strongly believe that I can find that love in you, it will take time for my body and soul to truly believe such a notion. A notion that someone who is a clear gem in a world filled with rocks would be attracted to the most warped and demented rock there is." His tears had ended, and in their death, a little spark of hope began life. Hope that this beautiful creature sleeping on his divan would one day be able to love him unconditionally.

It wasn't the shifting of weight on the divan that woke her from her slumber, or the gentle hand on her cheek. It was the gentle voice that whispered by her ear. It was the words that flowed to her ears like the gentle lullaby that a mother sings to her small child as they drift off to sleep. She kept her eyes closed as the words penetrated her mind and nearly cried as she began to understand their meaning.

"Oh Erik, I will always be with you, and when you decide that you are healed from the ill effects of my mother's actions, I will be there to give you the compassion and companionship you have never known. I regret not one moment of the past, and I am ever so grateful that I have been led straight into your arms." Mollia's voice was smooth and each word was connected like notes in a song. Before he could react to Mollia's surprising response, she placed her lips against his.

His lips were not as cold as death like the ballet rats had told her mother years before. She stayed this way, eyes closed, until she felt his arms move behind her back. His fingers moved across her dress gently, and his lips pursed. Erik pulled back first with haste, standing.

"I… I… why?" His voice was like a child's whisper after discovering a secret He was curious and shocked, his mind unable to register what his body felt.

"I did it because I love you Erik. I will not sit by and watch you doubt my every action and accuse me of hating you when you have no reason to. My love is undying and will stay intact through any horrible thing that the world could possibly force us through. I want you to understand that if I were ever to leave you or you I, I would surely die, and my soul would never rest."

Her voice, which had begun just as quiet as Erik's, was powered with confidence and only grew lovelier as she spoke of her true feelings, but Erik was still unable to understand why--why she had kissed him, why she loved him. Why out of all of the beautiful men in the world, why was it him? Why would fate place someone so close mortal perfection with someone on the opposite end of the spectrum?

"Erik?" She was uncertain now, and the chilled flesh of her arms was not a result of the air. Cold, empty hearted fear filled her, fear that could break the most beautiful creature from the inside.

His footsteps resounded across the room, and Mollia watched him leave. They had proclaimed their love for one another and kissed, but he left without any verbal response. She was dumbstruck, and her body fell to the divan. She lay there for over an hour until she heard melancholy chords reverberate through Erik's door. She knew what it was: it was a requiem. Her feet beat the stone floor hard enough to sound as if the bones of her feet were splintering. By the time she had reached his door, the requiem had come to an end. The door was already open and there he was, hanging in the air, a chair kicked out from under him.

"Erik!" Her voice was shrill and panicked. She took hold of his legs, trying to elevate his body so that he could breathe.

"Please, Erik! Help me! You will not leave me! Damn you and your ignorance!" She cursed as she glanced around the room. His face was pale, his eyes closed. When she glanced away from his face, realizing that death was taking him slowly, she saw the glint of his sword. Oh what luck fate had bestowed upon her. She took it into her hands and used the chair to stand on. In one brief motion, the sword sliced through the rope as easy as a knife through butter. She cringed as his body hit the floor.

"Erik? Please, Erik, wake up! I wish to hear your wondrous voice, to see your beautiful face. Please! You must come back to me!"

She cried openly, sprawled next to him on the cold floor. She couldn't move him--he was too tall and too heavy--so she grabbed every blanket from the living room that she could find and jogged back into his room. They fell over his body slowly, much like a sheet does when tossed into the air. She felt like she was covering the body of a loved one, but her hope hadn't died completely. Although the floor was cold, she laid down next to him under the blankets and cried upon his chest, hearing no heart beat through her wrenching sobs. She didn't remember falling asleep until the darkness over her mind lifted and the feeling of two arms around her became startling.

"Erik!"


	12. Chapter 11

**A/N: Sorry it took so long. End of my junior year of highschool= insanity. O_o. It was really crazy. Thanks for the patience and I want to send a thanks out to all of those who reviewed last time. You know who you are, and thanks to readers please take the extra minute to review. **

**Thanks to my beta!! You are amazing Anne!! You have helped me to improve so much!**

**Enjoy**!

Chapter 11

"Erik!" The two arms around her filled her with relief as she glanced into the hooded eyes of her beloved. An exhausted groan was all she received as a response.

"Erik, tell me this is not a dream, that we are really lying on the floor with your warm, living arms around me and your breath upon my face! Tell me that you are really alive!" Tears sprung to Mollia's eyes once again. Erik's warm finger swiped them off of her rosy cheek, and he chuckled.

"This is no dream Mollia. We are both alive in the land of the living, lying on a cold stone floor with naught but a few blankets and each other for warmth." She sobbed a little and nodded, holding his hand against her cheek.

What Erik was not expecting was this: Mollia flung her closed fist against his chest, earning a painful 'humph'! Erik sat up in surprise, closing his arms around a hysterically sobbing Mollia in order to prevent any further bodily harm to himself.

"Why would you do that to me?! I thought you were dead! NEVER DO THAT AGAIN MONSIEUR PHANTOM! If you ever try something like that again, then I will kill you myself!" She slapped him in the face once and collapsed against his chest, crying into his silk shirt.

His hand made small circles on her back, and he rested his head atop hers. "When you kissed me, my life was complete. You have given me true love and all I wanted was to feel that love for a moment. I do not want to keep you trapped down here from the daylight, from the world. You need the world above and the world needs you in order to live and thrive. I do not want to be the person who holds you back from achieving your dreams." Now Erik had tears running down his face, and he sighed when he received only one statement from Mollia.

"I thought you were dead; I really thought you were dead." She repeated it over and over again, her voice weak from emotional exhaustion.

All Erik could think to do was to hold her and comfort her. He had never been good at apologizing, for he was a ghost who never had the need to apologize.

"Mollia? Mon amour? Please look at me." He waited until her puffy eyes met his. The sympathy rolled out of his eyes and covered Mollia like a fog. "I never intended for such a reaction from you. I will never leave you. Listen to me." Mollia allowed his warm hand to snake under her chin and lift her face. "I will never leave you."

The sincerity in his voice warmed Mollia to the core, and she sniffed the last of her sobs away and wiped the last of her tears. Her white teeth lit up her face as she giggled a little and wrapped her arms around him.

"I am just so relieved that you are alive. I don't know what I would have done without you here to guide me through this cruel world." She leaned into Erik's face and he leaned into hers lovingly.

~oOo~

"She does not have to be here for another hour, sir. Please cease your pacing. He will keep his word," stated Madame Giry. Though her voice was strong and convincing, her mind was filled with worry and uncertainty.

The managers paced past one another and glared at their watches. The hands could not move any faster but the managers seemed to believe differently.

"He'd better keep his word or I will burn this whole damn opera house down and find where he resides! If he desires the company of a woman, then he is definitely not a ghost! Ha! Thought he could fool us!"

The managers laughed with one another, but their thick laughs turned to frightened whimpers as a menacing chuckle boomed throughout the sea of velvet chairs.

"Burning down the opera house would not be the smartest choice to make!" The managers expected the Phantom to walk out from a row of seats, and they jumped when there was a light tapping upon their shoulders.

"Good evening messieurs. I am sorry for the fright. The phantom still likes to get a rise out of you two. Is everyone ready for rehearsal?"

The baffled managers nodded and looked to Madame Giry, who turned to Mollia and said genuinely: "I am glad to see you Mollia." And without another word she hurried from the stage to gather the ballet rats, cane tapping the whole way, creating a loud exit.

Rehearsal sped by and Madame Giry seemed to be on a roll, the constant clap of her cane on the floor signaling yet another misstep, loss of balance, bad posture, or out-of-step girl. Mollia felt a pang of sympathy for the ballet rats who worked so hard and were worked even harder.

Then it came time to sing her aria, and all else was swept from her mind but the soul of music and the face of Erik. The managers, who had been previously engaged in worrying and yelling about all the things going wrong and behind deadline, sat in awe as Mollia sang her song almost flawlessly. A sense of relief seemed to spread throughout the tired and exhausted bodies throughout the opera house. Her last note echoed through and ended, leaving a calm silence. Then Madame Giry's stern voice broke through.

"Alright girls, rehearsal is finished for the day. You must all rest for tomorrow. Chantal, I expect to see you improve upon that turn tomorrow. Maria, learn to count time with the other girls…." Madame Giry's voice continued rattling off a number of things for every girl to work on.

Mollia became weary from standing and sat on the stage's edge, her skirt billowing out around her and her thin yet strong legs swinging to and fro like that of a small child's.

"You did a magnificent job, my child. I am very proud of you for all that you have done. I hope that Erik is treating you well and will allow you to rest this evening." Mollia felt Madame Giry's calloused hand fall gently on her head for a few moments and when it was gone, Mollia could still feel the phantom touch upon her scalp.

"Mon ange, come to me…" Mollia heard the voice and glanced around, looking for Erik. But he was not there.

"Monsieur le Fantome?" Mollia stood center stage and spun around until she was dizzied. She turned to ask the dancers if they had heard, but they had already left. She made another turn, hoping for the managers and stage hands to be discussing the sloppy scenery, but they had left, too. Suddenly, the stage seemed very eerie and Mollia was frightened.

"Erik, if it is you, and if you are playing a joke on me, then it is not funny, and I demand that you come out!" Mollia's skin prickled as an ice-cold breath blew into her ear. Spinning to see nothing, Mollia folded her arms in front of her, looking for some type of security.

"Mon ange, I know not of an Erik." The voice was very similar to that of her love's, but it had more grit and whisper to it. She glanced around again, seeing nothing. Then she felt arms around her waist and she screamed. A leather-clad hand clamped over her mouth and Erik's scent filled her nostrils.

"Screaming might attract unwanted attention, mon ange. Shall we get going?" Mollia turned and wrapped her arms around Erik, surprising him.

"I am so glad you are here, Erik." She squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face in his warm shoulder.

"I am glad as well, my love..." She could tell that he was confused, but something told her to speak not of what she heard. She opened her eyes and the image before her make her squeal and jump back.

There was a man, clothing similar to Erik's, who also wore a mask. But his mask was the color of blood and death, a deep red like that of crimson flowing from a victim's veins. The cold black eyes staring into hers remind Mollia of the fiery pits of hell and how cold the devil truly was. The man's smirk was devilish and conniving and she feared it so. She felt Erik pull back and was distracted. When she glanced back the figure was gone.

"What has frightened you so, Mollia?" Mollia looked to Erik, his concern-filled eyes soothed her fright, and she shook her head.

"I just thought I saw a ghost." _F__rom the past but where have I heard that voice_, she thought. Erik chuckled and pulled back, bowing deeply.

"I can assure you that I am the only ghost who haunts this opera, Mademoiselle. Now, fair maiden, will you come with me to my humble abode?" Mollia giggled and took Erik's offered hand.

"I will, sir Phantom, and may all other ghosts, for there might be some, be aware that you are the fiercest and sliest of them all." Mollia allowed Erik to swoop her into his arms as they descended through the trap door.

One thing haunted her mind: in one hand, the figure had held a crimson rose, wrapped in a silver ribbon, blood dripping from the thorns--in the other, a silver wedding band.


	13. Chapter 12

**A/N: I figured that everyone has waited enough and deserves two chapters. This one is LONGER!!!! (HOOT!). **

**Please review. **

**NEWS: I am rewriting the first two or three chapters because I realized that they kind of suck. **

**Thanks to my beta Anne as always. Without her I wouldn't be writing this anymore. Thanks!  
**

**ENJOY  
**

Chapter 12

"What do you want from me?!" Mollia tried to tear her arm from the masked stranger in front of her, anger tearing through her words. Hot tears of molten fire raced down her burning cheeks. She pulled harder but the man was too strong. His hand was wrapped tight around her arm, and its coldness was the same as the opera's marble steps on a mid-winter morning.

He yanked Mollia hard, causing her to crash into his chest, her face inches from his own. His body gave off an arctic cloud that spread through the warm room like a deadly fog. His glacial breath chilled her bones, and then he spoke. Everything that his aura froze shattered when his dark voice shook the air.

"You know very well what I want, mon ange. I want what is rightfully mine and was taken away from me." He paused to breathe his raw breath into her ear. "You are mine!"

The harsh whisper shocked her, but not nearly as much as his kiss. His lips covered hers roughly, and instantly ice spread throughout her body. Mollia felt her finger go numb, more so than the rest of her body and she tore away from the man. Upon her left ring finger sat a plain silver band. She watched in fear as it glimmered in the small light that the candle provided.

Instantly Mollia tried to tear it from her hand, but like the man's hand, the ring was frozen around her finger. She felt the man wrap his arms around her and laugh. It was a horrid, requiem-like laugh that symbolized what he believed to be a victory. She felt her mind darken and the scene fade as a frozen kiss was placed upon her neck.

~oOo~

Mollia shot up into Erik's arms, crying into his shoulder.

"You were tossing like a madwoman and sobbing. Are you all right, mon amour?" Mollia shivered in his arms and sat there until Erik whispered into her ear. "Mollia! You are so frigid. What is wrong? My God! Even your lips are blue."

Erik slipped next to her, holding her against his chest and pulling the blankets over them. He was uncomfortable, though, and Mollia could tell he was trying not to show her how tense he was.

Mollia laid her left hand on top of Erik's and leaned in to kiss him. Suddenly she pulled back, the covers flying off them. Erik had felt what ever it was, as well, for his whole body shook in pain and shock. Before he could say one word, Mollia pulled her left hand into the light and shrieked when she saw what was occupying it.

"Oh, my God! It was a dream! It was a dream!" On Mollia's left ring finger was the silver band from her dream. She tried to pull it off, but it would not budge. Erik took her left hand in his and cradled it, and they both ignored the terrible stinging that it caused.

"What happened? In the dream, what happened?!" Erik sounded like he was going into hysterics.

"Earlier, when I said that I had seen a ghost, I wasn't joking. He was dressed like you and was standing in the shadows. He wore a crimson mask that covered his whole face. In his right hand he held a bloody red rose, and in his left he was holding this silver band." She emphasized by wiggling her finger. "Then I had this dream. In it he told me that he was there to claim what was rightfully his, he kissed me and slipped the ring on my finger. He was cold... so arctic…The ring seemed frozen to my very soul! Get it off! Get it off!" Mollia began tearing at her finger, cutting the skin around the ring.

"Mollia, stop! Stop, Mollia! You are hurting yourself!" Erik wrapped his arms around Mollia, who began to sobbing into his chest. The stinging had become normal to them already. Mollia saw her finger and gasped, and Erik looked down.

The once silver ring had absorbed some of the blood, and now on the once-blank, silver band was Mollia's full name with little roses surrounding it. The roses were ugly to Mollia--crimson roses with death and pain etched into each curve. Erik sighed and wrapped her hand in his.

"There is nothing that we can do tonight. Tomorrow, when you are at rehearsal, I will scope out every inch of this opera house and find the bastard that did this to you." Erik paused and winced simultaneously with Mollia as the pain seemed to intensify. "You are going to have to come up with an explanation for the ring, but under no circumstances are you to tell anyone about what is happening. Not a word, understood Mollia?" Mollia nodded and then propped her head on his chest.

"It can be a chastity or a promise ring from my Mother. I know it seems odd that I would be wearing it now, but I can say that I made the promise that if I were to be in the presence of a man for more than two consecutive days, then I will wear it to ward him off. The managers also think that you are not a proper gentleman," Mollia couldn't bring herself to say what the managers really thought, "So they will understand if I am wearing it now. I will tell them that I want to make everyone aware that I will keep my innocence until the night of my marriage."

Erik smiled and kissed Mollia, but he doubled over, holding his stomach. Then Mollia screamed in pain. If she could imagine what getting hit by lightning was like, then she imagined that it would be the pain that she was feeling now. Her body went rigid on the bed as the pain intensified again and Erik crawled towards her.

"Mollia, I am so sorry! I never intended for this to happen. I should have left you alone!" Erik didn't touch her for the rest of the night, fearing that he would cause her pain.

**(A/N: I just wanted to take a small break to let everyone gather their heads and all of the information in this last bit. To clarify if needed. Yes the dream in a way really did happen and yes things will be explained as to who this crimson phantom is and how he relates to Mollia in the next few chapters. Phew… This is sure to be a fun trip.**

**Enjoy)**

~oOo~

_Messieurs,_

_I have written this in order to inform you that I have some demands that must be met, and if they are not, your opera house will go up in flames once again in a lovely show of fireworks._

_Tomorrow's rehearsal shall commence in the following way:_

_You shall convince Mademoiselle Daee that she must stay later than the scheduled rehearsal in order to work on her acting._

_Monsieur le Fantome will be taken care of, so do not worry your tiny brains._

_At precisely six o'clock in the evening, while Mademoiselle Daee in onstage going over her scene, the lights in the entire house will be extinguished. See to this._

_Five minutes later the lights shall come back on._

_Mademoiselle Daee will then be gone and you will return to your office, telling anyone who asks that it was le Fantome and it was her time to return to him._

_You are aware of what is to come if these demands are not met. _

_~ Crimson Phantom~_

One of the managers folded up the note and slipped it into his breast pocket while looking towards his partner.

"What did we do to deserve _another _menacing phantom sneaking around our opera house? Why do they always insist on having our leading sopranos?!" His partner sighed and continued to tap his pen on the desk at a steady pace.

"I will not give in to his demands. We will not give in! We know nothing about this new phantom!" They both agreed then and there that the new phantom would get nothing.

~oOo~

"Le Fantome will be taken care of, indeed!" The crimson masked and cloaked figure blended in with the shadows. All that stood out was two glowing maroon eyes that menacingly peered down at the sleeping form of Mollia Daee. His cold hand brushed her cheek, and he smirked as she tried to turn away but was unable to. "The ring is already working, mon ange. Soon you will have to heed to my every command."

Mollia's eyes snapped open. _Why does my face feel frozen? _She sat up, searching the dark shadows that loomed around the small haven of her bed. Seeing nothing, she began to stand, wondering where Erik was.

"Mon ange," The voice was nothing but a harsh whisper in her ear, but it was enough to make her freeze on the bed. She found her voice quickly.

"What do you want with me? Who are you?" She yelled fiercely, hoping to drive whoever was lurking there into the truth-seeking light, but the voice spoke from the shadows yet again.

"All of your questions shall be answered shortly, and soon you shall be mine! Stand up, Mollia Daee, and face your future!" His command angered her, and she refused, until her body began moving by itself.

She fought hard, hating the feeling of being a puppet on strings. Again another command came from the shadows. "Step forward!" His voice was sly, and when her body complied, Mollia began to allow her tears to fall. Then the frozen hand took her left, and she ice shot up her arm. It was then that she realized she could do only one more thing until she knew he would not relent: beg.

"Please monsieur--I will do anything for you. Just, please! Let me go. What did I do to make you hate me so? Please…" Her dropped head pressed into a cold chest gently, and she felt an icy hand upon her head.

"I would never in a million years hate you, my beloved. I hate your father. You were supposed to be mine, but he backed out at the last second. Stupid, stupid man. You see, he is the reason why I am forced to do this." She felt ice upon her forehead, realizing at the last seconds that they were lips, and then everything faded away and she was falling into an endless pit of darkness.

~oOo~

"My poor child, what has happened to you?" The voice of an extremely concerned father brought Mollia around, and she couldn't brave opening her eyes to face the light.

"Papa? What are you doing here? You are ill and are in no condition for travel. You should not be here!" His laugh brought her eyes open, facing the painful sting of the lights.

She gasped at the creature before her, a mere ghost of what her father used to be. His face was gaunt and pale like a skull, and his eyes were a faded green, like the tint of a sick person's skin. His body shivered, and he seemed to have trouble keeping his head up.

"Papa! You need to go home now! I am fine. I just fell asleep on the way up here and Erik laid me down, not wanting to wake me." Raoul patted his daughter's head. He strained to form his words, almost as if using his voice took too much energy.

"I was here before you arrived, sweet heart. It seems there is a new phantom and he wants you!" Her father's face paled imaginably so and she thought that he would fall out of his wheel chair.

"I have come to confront this ridiculous person." He sighed and leaned back, allowing Mollia a moment to go back to her encounter. She remembered the crimson phantom's words. _"I hate your Father. He is the reason behind why I am forced to do this." _Mollia shivered and sat up quickly, worry apparent in her blazing eyes.

"Father, you must not confront this man! He will kill you!" She cried out and clutched to her Father's leg like she did as a child. This caught Raoul's attention and his voice quivered.

"Mollia, have you already been contacted by this phantom? Has he done anything to you?" Mollia nodded, letting a few tiny tears slide down her cheeks. "He told me," she paused, taking a deep breath, knowing she was about to break her promise to Erik. "He told me that I was rightfully his and that he hates you. He said that you backed out and you are the reason why he must do this to me." Her father passed out then, in his wheel chair, and Mollia panicked.

"Papa?!" She cried out for help and was glad when Madame Giry rushed through the door, a worried expression twisting her stern face. She took one look at Raoul and wheeled him to the foyer, a nervous Mollia following behind.

The ambulance came a half-hour later and Mollia was ushered onto the stage.

"There is nothing that you can do for him by worrying, child. The doctors will take good care of him. He would want you to sing." This is what Mollia did. She sang, but her mind was not focused on mere singing. She couldn't get her thoughts away from her father's reaction to what the mysterious Phantom said to her. It was five when the managers strolled in and Mollia stood waiting for Erik.

"Mademoiselle Daee! I have a note from your phantom. We informed him that you were to stay until seven tonight to work on your acting, and he will get you after that.

"All right, Messieurs. What will I need to start with?" She worked diligently, hoping to please Erik with her hard work, but oddly, she felt emptiness in the pit of her stomach. Something was not right.

~oOo~

Erik pulled out his sword, a beautiful, hand-made piece of artwork, and prepared to face his imposter. He only received a menacing laugh.

"So you are the Fantome de Nouveaux! I am glad that I have found you. Now I can get rid of you once and for all, and I shall not have to worry about the pain that you are causing Mollia and myself!" Erik did not wait for a response as he lunged at the new phantom, forgetting all logic and allowing boiling anger to overcome him. Because of this, he did not notice the cage above him, and when it came crashing down, it was too late. The Phantom of the Opera had been captured in one of his very own traps.

"You must have forgotten about this beauty. You built it a long time ago. I hope you enjoy your stay here, for it will be long and lonely. How do you like being back in a cage? It suits you quite well; you should never have left the circus, Erik. At least they fed you." Erik listened to the man's evil laugh as it faded away. Tears threatened to streak down his mask as he looked for a way out.

"Mollia, my love, my light, I am truly sorry."


	14. Chapter 13

**A/N: Another update and I am hoping that you all enjoy it! Thanks to my Beat Anne! She is amazing and does an amazing job! My story would be nothing without her. **

**Please read and review!**

"Our emergency is that we have received yet another threat against the Opera House. We need as many men as you can send and the biggest fire brigade that you have. We seem to have another phantom on our hands who has threatened to burn the Opera House to the ground." The manager spoke into the phone hurriedly, glancing around the messy office subconsciously. He heard mumbling on the other line and sighed.

"Sir, here at the Paris Police Station we do not take jokes lightly." Laughter was heard in the background and the manager screamed into the phone.

"I am the owner of this opera house and I demand _help! _Unless you want to see this wonderful building burned to the ground yet _again_, I suggest you send someone down here, _monsieur! _What will the president of France think of you then? What do you think he will do when I tell him that you ignored our emergency because you thought we were joking?! Huh?" The manager waited for a reply and after a moment he received the desired answer.

"The police officers shall be arriving within the hour, but the fire brigade is currently busy and will take longer. I pray that you are not just joking around, monsieur, because if so, the consequences will be grave."

The police officer hung up after that and the sweaty manager plopped into his chair. "I hope that they are just here as precaution and are not truly needed. Why can't these damned phantoms just leave us be?"

~oOo~

Mollia was working on a scene where she was mourning the loss of a lover when everything was halted. The unease in her stomach spread through each limb when she saw the mangers march in through the back of the House, police men fanning in behind them. She walked forward, forgetting her practice, hoping that nothing bad had happened, and not knowing that everything was going wrong.

"Messieurs, may I inquire as to what is going on?" Mollia's confusion grew as the managers looked nervously between one another and mounted the stage on either side of her.

"Our darling Mademoiselle Daee, we have received a note from a phantom. Not the original phantom but one who calls himself the Crimson Phantom. It seems that he has his eyes on our most talented soprano--you. We have called all emergency personnel, for there are threats against the lives of every one of us."

The younger manager decided to chime in, feeling that Mollia needed to know why they were all in grave danger. "This despicable monster has decided to burn the Opera House to the ground unless we comply with his orders and give you to him, but we will not give in this time. We are certain that he will bring you great bodily harm and that is the last thing that I.. um.. we desire. So please, stay close because he may appear any--" The lights suddenly shut off in the whole Opera House. Yells from the police men could be heard throughout the House.

Mollia felt the stage shake and was suddenly hit with an arctic blast that wrapped around her. She squeaked and stepped back into the warm body of the young manager. She gripped his sweaty hand with her own hoping that in some way the Crimson Phantom would leave. She felt hot breath in her ear and stepped closer to the body.

"I am not so sure that the police will be able to stop him or shoot him at such a range. Worst comes to worse jump off the stage and run; I will fend him off."

Mollia nodded and gulped slightly and the stage lights faded into an eerie glow. In the center of the stage stood the Crimson Phantom. His attire was all black, the kind of clothing that is worn to an opera by a wealthy patron, and his mask was crimson red. His dark hair was pulled back into a short pony tail and Mollia could make out little strands of gray. Mollia's eyes met his and she shuddered when they revealed a haunting smirk. Her ring began to freeze upon her finger and she gripped the youthful manager's hand tighter. A sudden clapping and deep laughter brought everyone's eyes to the crimson man standing center stage.

"I must say, well done messieurs. You were able to herd up Paris's finest pigs and bring them all to this opera house. I highly doubt that was necessary. Although you have angered me so, without the Opera House functioning properly there is no meaning for my beloved Mademoiselle Daee and we just cannot have that." In anger, Mollia took a step forward, the young manager at her side.

"I refuse to go anywhere with the likes of you, sir, and no supposed deal that you made in the past will dictate what I do." Faster than she could see, the Crimson Phantom was in front of her. The glacial air emitted from his form yet his eyes looked as if they were on fire.

"I beg to differ. We can do this the hard way or you can be compliant and I will be a gentleman." His voice was stern and Mollia hated how he spoke to her as if she were a mere child. She scoffed at him and backed away. "Your choice."

Mollia noticed the police men in the wings getting ever so closer, inch by inch, and she took another step back, hoping that no one was stupid enough to fire their weapons yet. She looked into the Crimson Phantom's black eyes and shuddered when she felt a tug on her ring. She gasped and clung to the manager's arm.

"We need to leave..." She stepped back, ready to jump off the stage when the phantom's voice broke through, commanding her.

"Stop right there and face me, Mollia Daee!" His voice was booming and her body obeyed although her heart screamed for release and her mind searched for a way to free itself. "Come to me Mollia." She stepped forward, gripping the manager's hand harder as he walked with her. "Let go of him and continue to come to me, Mollia. Let them all know that I can control everything that you do. Show them who you belong to," Mollia sniffled and tried to stop her tears. "Show them your ring, Mollia. Tell them that this is what allows me to control you!" Mollia lifted her hand as she walked to her doom, showing everyone the ring with her name on it. Her tears were gushing now as she looked into the heartless phantom's eyes. They say that eyes are the key to the soul. This man's eyes were like a fortress wall and Mollia believed that his soul was lost in hell somewhere.

"You will not take her from us!" The young manager ran forward and gripped Mollia's arms once she was within arms reach of the Crimson Phantom. She gasped and told her body to stop struggling to move forward, but it was no use. She was a prisoner of her own body, her mind locked within it.

She gasped when the phantom pulled out his sword. It was a ghastly weapon and she looked at the hilt. It was the same she had seen the first time she saw the Crimson Phantom on the stage. The main part of the hilt was a crimson rose painted meticulously with red droplets shown on each thorn. The silver metal representing a ribbon twirled around the hilt and up the base of the blade. The ribbon was there to hold a silver band to the rose stem. It was the same ring upon Mollia's finger, name and all and it caused her to shudder.

Mollia looked to the phantom. He gave no warning and Mollia screamed. The blade slid into the manager's left shoulder like butter, causing the young man to fall back with a cry. Mollia felt icy arms wrap around her and her chest met that of the Crimson Phantom's as the policemen readied their guns.

"I intended to have fun with you all, but you are far too serious. My wife and I must leave you now." Mollia felt the stage give out beneath her and yelped. They disappeared beneath the opera house, leaving the managers and police forces baffled.

~oOo~

"This is out of control. We must search the bowels of the opera house." The young manager nodded to his partner and winced as the doctor sewed his wound up. The sword had nicked his shoulder bone, causing great pain and blood loss.

The police officer watched as the manager wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. "I will round up my best men and send them down. We will go to the bottom and work our way up. Hopefully we will be able to scare him out of the cellars and into the upper levels. Once we get him on the roof, he is wanted dead or alive. I just pray that your leading soprano comes out of this in one piece."

"I am sure that the other Phantom will be extremely helpful, seeing how close Mollia is to him. I just hope that we are able to end this quickly and get our lead back. We will have to find an understudy to take over the lead and keep business up, for I fear that our payments may have ended as of now." The young manager nodded and began looking over the opera house floor plans for his own way to Mollia.

~oOo~

Mollia followed the Crimson Phantom silently with her head down. _How can I get away from him if he can control me? _The man must have heard her, for he turned and smiled a little.

"I will not allow you to slip through my grasp again. I know that you must hate me but you will come to learn." His voice was stern and glacial and it made her shiver. He noticed this and touched her arm slightly. "Stay right there."

It was a command and she was forced to obey. She wanted to inch away carefully as he took the time to take off his cloak, and when he reached his arms around her to place it over her shoulders, she retched. The cloak was soft and quite comfortable but Mollia said nothing of her gratitude. She wouldn't have need of a thick cloak if he had left her on the stage.

She felt cold leather wrap around her left hand and pulled away. Her ring was glowing crimson and it felt as if it were unbearably tight.

"Why can't you just do things the easy way? Must you always act like a child? Give me your hand, Mollia." Mollia's hand flew into his palm and she glared at it. She felt as if she was betraying herself and she hated being a puppet. She heard the man beside her laugh and tug her along roughly. "Once we get to my home I will show you to your room and from there you will retire for the night, unless you require nourishment. Will you?"

His voice was sincere and it was the first real ounce of emotion that Mollia noticed. She shook her head in refusal silently and yawned into her free hand.

"We still have a long way to walk. Those imbeciles running the opera house are going to believe that I live under their building. They will be surprised to find not only my traps but I have rigged every exit from these cellars with explosives that will detonate once they enter. They will be trapped and forced to face their deepest fears." Mollia forgot his words when she began to think of her love. He lived in the cellars! _Surely he would have heard of my kidnapping already. I hope he is able to fight this monster._

"Oh Erik, _mon amour, _please hurry. I have faith in you." Mollia sighed the words, hoping that the Crimson Phantom had not heard her, yet fate seemed to be feeding from his palm. The sudden chilled whisper in her ear sent shivers down her spine. His voice was cruel and calm at the same time.

"Your lover will never come to save you. I made sure of that." Her mind instantly began to darken. Her heart pounded in pain and it seemed to force the itself throughout each weakening limb with each throbbing beat. Her last breath left her in a whispering question before she lost the will to fight and her world darkened.

"What have you done?"


	15. Chapter 14

A/N: Okay! Here is another chapter that sort of leads into the next one a bit. The next one is going to be a lengthy one which is why this is on the shorter side. I am currently re writing the first few chapters because they are horrible and some of the major points need clarifying. So when they are put up if you want to read them you are more than welcome to!

Thanks to my beta Anne! You are amazing and I love you so much! You have done amazing things and have taught me so much about grammar and other writing techniques!

Please enjoy and review!

**Chapter 14**

The air was damp, the scent of decay and mildew parading through the air, resting in the irritated noses of the preparing officers.

"I do not like the heaviness in the air, Captain. It is a sure sign of death. And that smell," the man gagged slightly, "it is wafting through the air freely--the smell of rotting flesh." Pierre shivered visibly and his voice shook as the words death and rotting hissed through his pale lips. The captain slapped him on the back reassuringly and laughed.

"The only death down here tonight is going to be the one of the supposed Crimson Phantom. He is a monster; kidnapping an innocent woman is the worst crime next to harming a child. We are about to do something great that will forever be carved in the stone of history, men!" The Captain's voice was deep, aged from years of an authoritative position, and the scalding grimy office coffee, if it could be called that.

"Make sure you are prepared for this, men; this Phantom is cleverer than any common criminal. Pierre! Jacques! Marq! Frederick!" The captain continued until each of his seventeen men were standing in attention. "All right! We have orders to search each and every cellar in this opera house. According to the managers, this monster will most likely be lurking in the lowest cellar of this grand building; the fifth cellar. Watch your footing once our journey begins, this phantom most likely has numerous amounts of traps set up."

~oOo~

She expected to wake to the sweet melody of Erik's expertise music as it slowly filtered into her mind, pulling her gently from the sub consciousness of her dreams, but instead the air was dead, still with silence. It was then that she realized one thing; the image behind her eyelids was gleaming red. Erik's lair was in the fifth cellar of the opera house; no natural light would be able to reach her. The sun was shinning across her flesh as the fuzzy memories had returned. The Crimson Phantom. She forced her eyes open, her sight blurry and dark, unfortunately neither blurry enough nor dark enough to miss the Crimson mask suspended tauntingly over her face. It was then that her stomach lurched and she sat up, glad for the bucket suddenly shoved into her arms. She heaved up everything she had digested within the last twenty four hours and once she was finished her voice was scratchy and her throat burned of an eternal flame.

"It is just a reaction to the chloroform. Your senses and body should be back to normal in a couple of hours. I am sure that you must be hungry, but seeing how rough the side effects are, I made you a bowl of lightly seasoned broth and some fruit, bread, and water." His voice was void of any form of human consciousness, no grief, no pity, no compassion; he was a droid, an alien in human form. Mollia looked into his stone eyes and down to the food. Her gaze fluttered to the bright light filtering through the double French doors leading to a large stone balcony. When had she been here, in this same spot before? She cleared her throat and looked back at the crazed monster in front of her.

"Where am I?" She coughed violently, and he waited, not moving an inch as she hacked. His voice shook her very soul, sending ice through every vein in her body.

"You were here often as a child and I thought that you might have remembered, but you must have been too young. The fates will reveal things eventually, though I prefer to stay out of it." He sighed and sat the tray next to Mollia, settling himself by her side, hoping that she would just eat and be obedient like she was as a child.

"Where is Erik? Please don't harm him." Tears sprung to her eyes at the thought of his yellowed flesh and glazed eyes, staring up at her in eternal pain and death. She would not be able to live if he were dead. The Crimson Phantom's eyes hardened if possible and he glared out at the balcony as if it had done something horrible to him.

"That man is of no concern to you. You shall never speak of any other man again! Do you understand me, my little angel?" Mollia glared at him, tears of molten hate dripping from her burning eyes. He reached out a cold hand and she pulled away sharply.

"If you will not show me Erik, then I will do nothing but sit here day after day and waste away. No food shall pass by my lips, no words shall escape my mouth, no sweet singing will reach your monstrous ears, my gaze will never land upon your horrid face again and never will you get anything from me. It will be as if I am nothing but a corpse, a living corpse, and I will be just that until I waste away and meet my true death. Death will be my only salvation as long as you keep me here and as long as it is a possibility that Erik is no longer of this world." Mollia finished her speech, her back tensed against the head board, fist clenched in her lap. The Crimson Phantom stood, taking the food tray.

"Your weakling beloved is still of this world, but for how long? I am not entirely sure how long his status will stay that way. As to wasting away, it will only be a matter of time until you are begging for nourishment and some form of company, even if it is a monster such as me." The door shut behind him and Mollia rolled over, screaming into her pillow. Then she sobbed, her heart tearing out with torturing pain. She cried for an hour or so and sat up, getting a full layout of the room. It was spacious and colorful, the walls a light shade of pink, the bed a canopy style with soft cotton blankets and feather-filled pillows. The room seemed appropriate for a young woman, but the prettiness was overshadowed by the claustrophobic air that swept over Mollia. She curled into a ball, her body producing more tears until a small epiphany befell her.

"All Erik has done is save me and help me, and here I am in his time of need, moping around like a lost little child. It is not I who is waiting for him; it is he waiting for me this time. There must be a way to get to him."

With a new ambition in mind, Mollia set to searching the room. She searched the desk drawers only to find a few pieces of parchment and nothing else. She searched the dresser and wardrobe to find enough clothes for an upper-class woman. Nowhere was there a weapon of any sort to be found. All of the pictures were hung with some sort of adhesive instead of nails or anything with a point. Then Mollia noticed the bucket that she had used earlier. It was made of a hard metal, light enough for her to carry in her weakened state and but hard enough to do someone damage. Mollia sat back on the comfortable bed and waited for her prison guard to arrive with lunch. Although she would not eat, she hoped that he would leave the food for a period of time. It was then that she would wait for him to retrieve the untouched food, and it was then that she would strike.


	16. Chapter 15

A/N: Sorry it has taken me so long to update. Life has been crazy as usual and honestly I forgot. Moving into my dorm tomorrow for my first year of college so I am so excited I can't sleep. Figured, hey, why not give it an update!

Thanks to everyone who continues to support me and I hope you will continue to review!

Chapter 15: Revealing

"AHHHHH!" It took forever for the thick metal bucket in Mollia's deathly grip to make contact with her captive's head. The air seemed to push against her, knowing somehow that her plan would fail, but Mollia ignored it. Her eyes were distant, cold. They were the eyes of an innocent turned killer. Crack! She'd never forget the sound of metal crunching through scalp and hair and finally fragmenting skull. He crumpled like a tower of cards before her eyes. It would have been almost comical if the circumstances were different and she wasn't holding the bucket. His knees slammed into the concrete and his upper body swayed only for a second, but it was long enough for his eyes to snap open and capture hers.

Mollia had witnessed the rage of Erik before. The fire would spray from his eyes burning into her flesh and the sound of his voice was that of the devils when devouring a soul. It was the most terrifying thing until the monster before her opened his own. She felt as if her entire being, body and mind, was frozen over thousands of times. Suddenly she couldn't move, fear she would crack and break like a delicate ice sculpture. It wasn't until his eyes lost focus and his face met the same fate as his knees that she could move. She stepped over his form quickly whispering to herself,

"I have to get out." One, two, thre-. She didn't even get three steps closer to her escape before steel clamped around her ankle in the doorway.

Dazed she wondered how she was only the ground and then she felt the blood pooling from her head and numbing pain as she saw her blood covering the corner of the door jam. Darkness flashed across her mind like a never ending strobe light as her body tried to protect itself from the torturous pain. She screamed slightly as her form was pulled the pain increasing impossibly. Pins and needles spread through her foot as the clamp tightened down.  
"No," she said over the grunt at her feet, not having the energy to yell. He shouldn't have been awake. He shouldn't have been knocked out. The Crimson Phantom should have been dead! Mollia had watched the bucket carve through the flesh and bone of his head. She had seen the gaping hole and indent it left, the giant pool of blood, but still there he was crawling up her shaking form. The second he was on her legs Mollia knew It was over. Her eyes began to roll back but his complete weight on her form brought her back.

She looked into his eyes fearfully noticing how hard it was to stay conscious.

"Look at what you have done!" Crimson growled. Blood dripped down from his bashed skull straight into the gash on my forehead and suddenly Mollia screamed. It felt as if his blood was freezing her body, as if it was forcing its way into her own blood stream. Her blood felt frostbitten but her body was on fire. She screamed again not even stopping as he clamped a chilled hand over her mouth.

Once the scream died she noticed his blood. It was Black, as black as the midnight sky. Her heart pounded faster, unknowingly helping his blood through her system as her own dripped down into her eyes. Mollia fell over the edge her mind taking the only known plunge to safety. She knew what she had to do and so she reached up and tore the horrid black blood covered mask from his face. His gut wrenching rage was the last thing her ears were left as ink flooded her mind.

~oOo~

"I'll only as k you once more heathen," his hatred whipped through the air as the leather cracked across his prisoner's back. Skin split, like ripping jeans, and blood back splattered against a crimson mask. The prisoner hung shamefully, not making a sound at the pain, but the permanent grimace carved into his face was enough.

"Has she ever seen your face?" His words were harsh. Like flint against stone they caused a fire of emotions in the prisoner's eyes. The whip came down again and again. Crack! Crack! Crack! The horrid sound echoed and bounced between the stone walls. Finally the prisoner screamed.

"NO!" The mournful screech filled the stale air. Reduced to sobs the man in chains let his body fall limp. "She has never seen the monstrosity that is my face," he said to his captor. The crimson phantom left his prisoner to hang by his arms, his back skinned like cow hide.

~oOo~

In 30 years of dedication to the police, never had the captain seen such a dismal group of men. Never had he witnessed such horror, bloodshed, death. Three were left, himself, the youngest Roberts, and Monahan. Monahan was sitting next to the dying form of Pierre whose body lay upon a table of swords, one that the other three had narrowly missed as the floor collapsed underneath them. The captain felt guilt travel through his bones, Pierre was right, they never should have agreed to this, but still he felt the need to go forth. If a monster was capable of creating such terror filled traps, finding joy in the slow deaths of his enemies then he didn't even want to think about the things the creep would do to a lady.

"Captain…" The quite whisper brought him to the side of Pierre's blood drained form, "you must go on and save the girl… This monster is capable of anything. I do not wish to have a lady endure something such as this…Go...You are a great…" The captain stopped his, his hand resting on Pierre's impaled shoulders.

"Do not honor my name Pierre. You are the one who shall be known as the hero. I am sorry my friend, so sorry." He watched the light fade from his partner's eyes and for the first time in 30 years the captain cried. Monahan left the captain to his sorrows and wrapped his arm around the Roberts' shoulders, a mere sixteen year old boy, too young to have seen any of this. His form was curled up and shaking. The boy mumbled unrecognizable words by Monahan's ear.

"Roberts. You should have never seen any of this, but we cannot go back now. That way is blocked by rubble, blood and spirits. You do not want to leave knowing a lady could fall to the same fate do you?" Monahan turned the boy's head and looked him in the eyes, "Do you?" he said a little more forcefully.

"No..sir. I do not." The boy was scared out of his wits but he didn't need babying now.

"Then pull it together and prepare for the worst battle of your life." Together all three left the mangled body of their comrade and trampled on.

~oOo~

"I know you are awake. Open your eyes." His voice was frost bite, rotting off Mollia's ears. She tried to resist him with everything her tired mind could but the ring tightened beyond belief as the magic began to work and her eyes open

She had never wished for the darkness of Erik's cellars before but as the sun mocked her predicament and burned into her eyes she needed her home. The crimson monster sat before her on the edge of the bed. She looked around noticing the bed from the first time she woke up and then her eyes traveled to his hands. He had a medical needle and thread.

"You should have never tried to get away," he spoke as he threaded the string slowly for her to see, "You never should have taken off my mask. You have pushed me too far," his voice frightened her. He sounded dead. "I was hoping not to use the ring but it seems you have made me. Stay still because this will hurt; especially without any medicine." He sounded slightly regretful as her body froze on the spot. Mollia moved her eyes frantically as the needle drew closer and closer to the open gash on her forehead, and as it began pushing through her flesh only her eyes reflected the horrid torture. The Crimson Phantom stayed silent as he stitched her forehead expertly. He ignored Mollia's painful gaze and focused on his work pushing remorse out of his mind.

Mollia's eyes drifted to the forehead of the Phantom before her, expecting to see stitches as well, but she squeaked. No stitches, no blood, and no gash. Not even as much as a bruise from what was supposed to be a crippling bruise. She tried to talk, tried to question but willingly obeyed when he told her not to move, not wanting to feel the pain of the ring once more.

"You are wondering how my injury is gone," he stopped his stitching and turned grabbing a damp cloth, "Let's just say an old crone helped me make a very good deal." Pouring some more liquid on the rag he said more to himself, "It is only a matter of time before your blood accepts my blood completely." One hand touched her stitches gently and her body moved closer without her bidding. He smiled caringly but stopped once he realized her eyes were filled with disgust.

"I talked with you beau," She jerked at his words trying to speak her own; "I am not ready for you to speak! Now, seeing as you are such a curious little vixen why don't we go and see what is under your beau's mask?" It was after his atrocious words that Mollia broke from the ring's hold verbally, her body still fighting to lunge at the monster.

"You are filth! I will never do that! If you even think about making me hurt him I will break away from your stupid magic and kill you with my bare hands, witches' blood or no! I hate you, and I will hate you forever!" She hoped her words would hurt him, cause him to rethink his horrid decision and cause emotions to wreak havoc on the dead organ in the center of his chest, but he only laughed. He lifted her off of the bed supporting her swaying form against his chest.

"As I've told you, you will learn to love me. But even if you hate me as long as you are mine you can do so forever, and it will be forever." She realized at that moment he was crazier than she thought. Living forever, her body accepting his blood?

He walked her down to the first floor of the large manor. Mollia recognized the marble stairs, the baby grand piano in the foyer. It all felt like a fuzzy dream. It sounded as if the house were telling her who it was but she couldn't hear its frantic voice, and suddenly it was hushed by ice.

"You cannot see where we are going from here. Sleep now." Her body drooped at his words and he lifted her like a bride entering the marriage bed room. As the final curtain fell over her mind Mollia used her last resource.

"Please don't make me do this," sleep filled tears trailed down her red cheeks, "I'll never mention him again…I'll be good." His frown was the last thing Mollia saw his words echoing in her mind.

"An outburst such as earlier deserves nothing short of what is to happen my dove."

Erik was relieved to see that Mollia was almost completely unharmed, only frowning deeply at the stitches on her forehead. His heart squeezed as he made the connection between the man's words and his actions. No.

"Why did you bring her here? What are you planning you vile creature!" The chains widened the filth ridden wounds on his wrists as he lunged against their hold at the monster as it cradled Mollia against its form. The monster ignored Erik as he fought his restraints. He glared at the thing that dared to stroke his Mollia's hair.

"Wake up Mollia." The whisper jolted Mollia from her unconscious state and onto the floor. Erik cried out sharply almost feeling the pain from her thud. The first thing Mollia noticed was the smell; mold and sickness. The air was heavy and cold covering her shivering form.

The mournful cry behind her caused her to turn. The creature in chains was Erik but it did not look like him. His form was shriveled, the weight loss alarming. Blood covered almost every inch of him save his face, his mask. She tried to run to him tears in her eyes but steel encircled her waist halting her from her goal.

"Now you will know the consequences of you little outburst my little dove. Go to him" She didn't hesitate to run to Erik slipping to her knees in front of his form.

"Erik, I am so sorry!" She cried shamelessly as she wrapped her arms tightly around her love ignoring his painful groan, "I will get us out Erik. I promise. I don't know how to kill him. I tried but he healed like nothing I have ever seen. I love you so much." She rambled on until Erik breathed loudly into her neck.

"Mollia, It is I who should get you away from him. As soon as I get out of these chains I promise you will be freed." Mollia lifted his head, her mouth centimeters from kissing him when the Crimson Phantom stopped her, "Stop!" She thought he had noticed her slip the bobby pins into Erik's strung up hands as she held them, waiting to be reprimanded severely.

"You will take off your beau's mask now Mollia."


	17. Chapter 16

His flesh was sickly yellow, drawn taunt against his visible bones. His nose was present in patches but missing for the most part, merely sunken holes where the arch of cartilage was meant to be. Patches of his dry flesh were red, irritated, and oozy. She gazed upon her lovers face hiding her initial disgust. Mollia forced herself to remember that this was Erik. This was the man that she was destined to be with and no matter how he looked she would always love him. She gazed into his drawn back eyes tears forming at the sight of his own. "Erik.. I still love you. I love you more than ever." She leaned forward to kiss him but her body was jerked back. She could feel the purple and blue bruises forming on her arms as the red leather gloves dug into her flesh. "I think you have done enough for one night my love" The haunting voice of the crimson phantom seeped into her ear. Erik's mask less head dropped sobs wracking his body. Mollia felt a pang of pain shoot through her body at the sight of her love so defeated and pain ridden.

"Mollia, I don't think I have done enough to punish the two of you. With my power over you, you are never to tell him that you love him again or the most imaginable pain will be brought upon the both of you, and for our last little act. Mollia Daee, I command that you kiss me as you would kiss your former love." Mollia looked at the crimson phantom in horror trying to fight the pulling from the ring around her finger. She pleaded with her eyes as her arms moved around his neck of their own accord. She internally cringed at the graceful brush of his hands on her hips, hating how her lips drew closer and closer. She glanced to Erik and the horror on his face caused her tears to flow even harder. Her lips met the crimson phantoms and her world seemed to end. Ice cold air swirled around them and warmth traveled from her ring through her body and into his. His tongue slid across her petite lips and his magic forced her to open as if willing the kiss to go on. The kiss lasted until Mollia's mind began to shut down, the flow of power draining her body completely. She fell against the crimson phantom, eyes sliding shut as she joined her subconscious, praying her soul would still be intact when she awoke.

Erik felt as if he were to die from the pain traveled throughout his system. No amount of healing would be able to ease the tearing within his heart. He knew Mollia was under the control of the crimson phantom but as he watched her lips meet his enemy's so feverishly Erik could not help but wonder if she truly loved him. He watched the glow encase the two embraced together and he knew somewhere deep inside getting his love back would be next to impossible. As Mollia fell into unconsciousness the Crimson Phantom set her down and proceeded to stalk towards Erik. "She does not love you Erik. She never will love you again. After all, who could love a face such as yours? I am surprised she did not faint sooner. My powers do not have such a hold as to make her kiss me as she did. I can force her to engage but continuance was all of her own free will. I hope you rot in here knowing you will never see Mollia's beautiful face again." Erik spat at the feet of the monster before him and grunted at the kick he received. He groaned out his lovers name as the Crimson Phantom carried her body into a tunnel of darkness.


End file.
